Shattered Paradise
by Winnett
Summary: One hundred and eighty-three days and everything has changed. HxD, DxS, HxS, HxDxS. Threesome, non-con, hurt/comfort
1. Chapter 1

Title: Shattered Paradise  
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Draco/Severus, Harry/Severus, Harry/Draco/Severus  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Non-con, angst, threesome  
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst  
Summary: One hundred and eighty-three days and everything has changed.  
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.  
Author's notes: Written for the HDS-Beltane exchange for Juwel who requested Harry's humiliation, revelation, secrets. The dynamic of H/D/S. To have them completely change the way they think about each other. Dealing with post traumatic stress disorder. Harry and Draco are both 17 at the beginning of this story. This story was written to Pink Floyd and is best read to such music. Thanks so my betas, tehrin, oootheitooo, and megyal you are all so amazing and helpful. And thanks to the mod, who put up with me through this fest. This version is edited. Go to winnettfics at livejournal for the unedited version. (though it isn't edited much.)

* * *

**PART I**

**One hundred and eighty-three days until: **

It was Samhain and the city was burning.

Screams saturated the air and all he could feel was the heat from the flames. Burning. It was all burning.

"Harry!"

Someone yelled his name. Desperation tainted everything: the words, his hearing, the beating of his heart. Harry ran blindly, stumbling under his exhaustion and fear, pulling people away from the scorched buildings, from under the falling rubble. Bleeding. Everywhere there was blood.

Then, out of the smoke, their enemies loomed.

**One hundred and eighty-one days until: **

The sound of steel scraping on steel. An echo of water dripping in the background. The sharp stench of mildew and urine. Dim light haloing everything in a cold glow. The ache in his skin and bones. A mouth full of cotton and day-old vomit. Those were the first things he noticed when he awoke in his cage.

The second was that he was not alone.

In a corner cowered Draco Malfoy.

"Wha—" His attempt to speak became nothing but pitiful squeaking through his dry, raw throat. Malfoy, facing the corner, turned in slow motion towards him. His blond hair was the color of sludge and fell across his face in stringy lengths that failed to hide the bruises forming over his left eye and bridge of his nose.

He was huddled in the corner, huddled with his back turned and his shoulders hunched, and he was dirty and stripped bare.

Harry looked down at himself and noticed he, too, was naked. Filthy and naked like a war zone refugee, but then, that is what he was, wasn't it? A refugee in a shattered world. A casualty of war.

"Slop time, boys," came cruel words that boomed against Harry's tender ears. Why did his ears ring so much? What had happened? How long had he been here? Everything was hazy, a fog of memory flashes, sometimes sounds, sometimes smells and sights. All he remembered was burning and bleeding and screaming. That was all he remembered until this moment.

Malfoy quickly shifted back to face the corner, curling into an even tighter ball as metal scraped against metal and a rusty hinge squealed. The air was thick and damp.

"Here you go, maggots. Enjoy." Laughter and that metal screech and then boot steps receding. Too many sounds, all mixed up, just flashes of the external world.

Harry groaned and tried to roll over, but pain spiked through his upper arm at the motion and the odor of the food sure as hell wasn't enough of a temptation for him to put forth the effort to rise. The smell was terrible, like something found in the bottom of a pig slop that'd had a month of hot sun and humidity to ripen. It smelled, literally, worse than shit.

"Eat up, Potter," Malfoy said in a quiet, urgent voice, and there was more scraping and then the loud slurping of a starving beast trying to consume as quickly as possible before larger scavengers chased him away.

"Potter." Malfoy reached out and pressed against his arm and Harry screamed, the sound ripping through his already raw throat and the flashes of this painful, cruel, external world slipped away.

**One hundred and seventy-nine days until: **

He awoke, or surfaced, since he didn't feel like he'd actually slept, to the sounds of rhythmic squeaking that faded into grunting and low guttural sounds, which might have been words had Harry an immediate sense of language.

Grunting and whimpering and, as his fog cleared, words of "Open up for me" and "Fucking tight, so tight" and "Take it all, little slut" and Harry longed to retreat again. This couldn't be happening.

For the first time, he felt panic.

The noises continued and Harry tried to will himself to unconsciousness and he organized in his head all of the Quidditch games he'd played and thought about potions for headaches and tried with all his might to wish himself _elsewhere_ and then the noises stopped. He held himself stiff, holding his breath even as he heard a zip, then stomping of boots and the slap of bare feet on stone.

His back was to the exit of the cage so he didn't see the door wrenched open and something thrown inside. Something that quickly scrambled to the far corner then became silent and invisible.

"Shall we take Potter?" a voice asked. A voice that was husky and harsh and Harry knew he'd heard it before but his brain was frantically searching for oblivion.

"No," said another voice, one that Harry did not recognize, "not yet. He needs his strength or the power of your cock might just kill him, Greyback."

Harry's heart stopped. Literally. Stopped and refused to beat and his eyes, caked with gunk, ripped open and he stared at the back of his cage, at the metal bars surrounding him highlighted by the single Muggle light bulb that hung from a long cord above their cage. Then his heart beat again, strong and it hurt in his chest as it raced to keep him alive, alive without the benefit of hope.

Greyback laughed. "Hasn't killed that girly boy yet, Rowle. Lucius' failure's my own reward. I like my little pet. But I'm ready to try the new one. He killed our Lord and pay he will. And so young. So tender. I could just eat 'em up."

The two men continued to laugh as they walked away and then he heard, off in the distance, another door close and quiet descended on their intimate nightmare, broken only by the sharp drip of water.

**One hundred and seventy-seven days until: **

"Slop time," the Death Eater called Rowle said.

Two plates were slipped into the cage piled with moldy bread and rotting meat. Harry looked at Malfoy, who sniffed in feigned disdain, but ate his anyway.

Harry reached out and picked up the hunk of meat and bit in.

**One hundred and seventy-six days until: **

His reprieve hadn't lasted long and soon, without any finesse, he too was educated into the world of dehumanization, torture, and his own personal corner of Hell.

"Take it," Rowle grunted from behind Harry. "Good little slut. You like that, don't you."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think himself to another land. Tried to take his thoughts to somewhere else, where he wasn't being raped by Death Eaters. Malfoy had told him to just relax, just think of other things, but the ripping of his anus and the jarring of his thighs against the rough metal of the table he was bent over kept his mind very, very present.

With a few shudders, the man came and then patted Harry's head like he would a dog. "Good boy," he drawled with mocking affection. And when he pulled out his cock, slick lines of pink and brown tinted slime slid out of Harry's arse along with it. "Back in your cage."

Rowle pulled up his trousers and grabbed Harry by the hair with his stubby fingers, dragging him to the eight by eight cell that he and Draco had shared for a week. Harry tried to get his feet under him, but Rowle kept tugging, forcing Harry off balance, and he just gave up and reached out to brace himself as he was tossed inside.

Malfoy had his back turned, facing the corner.

"Sorry, blondie, but today you'll have to go without. Greyback's busy, and I just know he's your favorite. Maybe I'll do you a favor and stop by tonight. How would you like that?"

Malfoy said nothing, just drew more into himself.

"How do you like that, lad? I asked you a question?" Rowle took a step inside the cell and Harry scooted out of the way, squeezing out come in his effort. He hated this feeling of leaking, of something being terribly wrong inside.

Rowle swung his leg and kicked Malfoy hard in the kidney. Malfoy cried out and looked up to Rowle, fear and betrayal blatant and screaming from his eyes, the twist of his mouth.

"You'd like me to stop by and have a go, right?" he asked, tapping the boot that he'd just kicked Malfoy with hard against the floor.

Malfoy nodded sharply, his eyes wide and full of dread.

"Tell me," Rowle sad.

Malfoy's eyes darted over to Harry, and Rowle kicked him again, right in the knee. Malfoy screamed and grabbed at his knee, tears welling up in his eyes. "Ye—Yes. I would like that." His voice cracked and he nodded in earnest.

"Good boy," Rowle said with a smile. "I might just come by tonight then. How 'bout that?" and he turned his back on them. The door closed, the rusty metal ringing through the silence, and he walked away.

Malfoy refused to meet Harry's eyes. Harry didn't try to meet his.

**One hundred and seventy days until: **

Had it only been a week? Two? The memory of the fires and being torn from Hermione and Ron had begun to turn surreal, like something he'd seen in a movie years before or maybe even a story he'd read in the back of a literary magazine. Something he didn't quite remember, but certain he'd seen it somewhere.

This place, his cage, had become eternal.

He no longer cried himself to sleep. He wasn't worth the tears.

**One hundred and fifty days until: **

"Potter."

"Potter, wake up."

He wasn't sleeping; he was just hiding from the world.

"Potter." Something in the urgency of Malfoy's words made him open his eyes and look up. They were both disgusting, filthy, and he hated the fact that he couldn't even smell his own stink anymore. The smell of shit and blood and semen was so prevalent on their bodies and in their cage, that he didn't even notice it.

"Are you cold?" Malfoy asked.

Of course he was cold. He was always cold. They were surrounded by stone in the open air of an animal cage and he was naked and scrawny. How could he not be fucking freezing?

"Yeah," Harry said. His body had long ago forgone shivering. Maybe it was trying to commit suicide. Maybe today was the day he wouldn't eat the crap they laid out for him. Maybe today he would just die.

"Can I…?" Malfoy leaned towards him, moving away from his corner. His eyes were wide, almost glowing in the light of the florescent bulb that was never shut off. Dismal eternal light. Squatting on his hands and feet, he took a tentative hand-step in Harry's direction.

"Can you what?" Harry asked, alarmed at the pitch of his own voice.

"Never mind." Malfoy immediately turned his back on Harry and faced into his corner, shivering.

Ah… Harry understood. Malfoy hadn't given up. Malfoy still wanted to live.

"Come here," Harry said. Like a timid mouse Malfoy looked over his shoulder at Harry, then slowly turned his whole body and crawled over on hands and knees. The two teenagers huddled back to back, laying one side on the cold, hard ground, arms wrapped around their middles. Malfoy was a little furnace and Harry was certain he won out on this deal.

"Warm," Harry mumbled and pressed closer to Malfoy.

"Yeah," Malfoy agreed.

Time had little meaning for Harry in his cage. There were moments where he was fed, moments where he took a dump in the corner they used as a toilet, moments where he was dragged out of the cage, bent over a table and fucked. Everything else was soft, mutable, but now here he was, touching another person and this simple act seemed to make this moment solid, more real. Harry didn't know whether to hate Malfoy forever for this, or thank him.

"How did they get you?" Harry finally asked. They hadn't talked at all, not really, since Harry had been brought here.

"They killed my father, said he had something to do with you killing the Dark Lord. Greyback had always had an eye on me and he took me. I struggled. I did," he said quietly, "But I didn't have my wand and… and you know how he is." Yes, Harry did. "And I've been here since. I've been here… since."

Did Malfoy know how long he'd been here? Harry knew he'd lost track of time.

"You?"

"Me?" Harry stopped to think. "Hermione, Ron and I were trying to free some Muggles being tortured by Death Eaters. I had no idea there were so many of you…" he thought about that and then recanted, "them. I thought with Voldemort gone that they would all fall apart."

"Yeah. Me, too," Malfoy said, pressing closer to Harry's back. He was still shivering.

"Then there was this trap and Ron was almost captured but I revealed myself and they went after me instead. They set the whole town on fire. It's bad out there, Malfoy. Really fucking bad."

"Draco. Just… could you call me Draco?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said. He began counting Draco's vertebrae as they pressed into his back. "And Harry, call me Harry." He felt Draco nod his head against the back of his own.

"But it isn't hopeless. It isn't like the Death Eaters will win. They don't have a leader and there are a lot of people fighting them. They'll find us in no time."

"No time," Draco repeated.

"Yeah."

Their conversation stopped and Harry felt Draco breathing, slow and steady and thought he must have fallen asleep. He wondered again how much time had passed.

**One hundred and forty-nine days until: **

He woke up with Draco's arm around his waist and his sharp nose poking the back of his neck and realized just how cold he had been. Draco was warm, soft and a human being who wasn't hurting him. Tears started slipping down Harry's face and he began to quietly weep.

"Hey," Draco said, and propped himself up to look over at Harry. "Don't give up."

"I already did," Harry admitted, wiping away at the moisture, creating a clean patch on the back of his wrist. "I'd already given up, then you had to go and be nice to me. How fucking pitiful. Voldemort should have won." Harry rolled onto his stomach.

A tentative hand touched Harry's shoulder, and then awkwardly began rubbing his back. "Don't give up, Harry. Please… I'd thought about dying so many times, then you were brought here and I realized I'm not alone. Don't give up… I don't think I could do it alone." His words were quiet in his confession, small and so very fragile.

Draco continued rubbing and Harry sniffed his runny nose.

Finally, he rolled back over and looked up at Draco. "Fine. I'm not giving up. But… I can't do this very long. Not much longer."

Draco nodded.

**One hundred and forty-three days until: **

They lay together for warmth. The door to the outside, _to freedom_, Harry thought, opened; Draco scurried to his corner and Harry to his. They hid their faces and shrunk to as small a size as possible, hoping to be looked over, to be forgotten.

"Hello, lads." Greyback. Harry felt his bollocks scramble up inside his body.

"Which one wants to come play today?"

Neither of them moved.

"Pretty boy or hero boy…? It is so hard to choose," he chuckled. The lock on the cage door rattled and then from beyond Rowle called out.

"Greyback, get your arse back here. We have to go to York. Now!"

"What?" the feral man growled. "I'm busy."

"Put it in your pants. We have to go."

"Fucking shite. You boys just hang on. I'll be back soon." Heavy stomping lead away and Harry heard Draco whimper as he released his own breath.

"That was close," Harry whispered after he heard the door click. He looked over to Draco, who was shivering again, his arms wrapped around his legs as the bones of his spine poked out like a little headstones from a graveyard.

"Draco?"

Draco looked over at him, pale and scared and Harry, due to some unrecognizable emotion, crawled over to him.

"It's okay," Harry said. He opened his arms and Draco's wide eyes stared at him, skittish and wary. Harry didn't move and finally, like a frightened child, Draco leaned into Harry's chest. Stiffly, Harry wrapped his arm around him and held on. They didn't touch like this unless they were sleeping and Harry wasn't sure if he was overstepping boundaries or breaking undefined rules, but then, they were trapped in a cage; there weren't rules for this. He relaxed and ran a soft caress down Draco's back, over and over.

"I don't want him. I don't want him to take me again," Draco confessed to Harry's chest. "He hurts me. He tries to hurt me."

The light bulb overhead sputtered, flickered just a bit, but came back to full brightness. Harry looked up at it, and wished upon it like a star.

_Please,_ he pleaded to the star, _help us. Get us out of here. We don't deserve this._

After, Draco seemed calmer and he pulled away from Harry's arms and gave him a tentative smile.

"Thanks," he said with a vain attempt at his formal haughtiness. "Sorry I broke down there, Harry." Draco looked away; his downcast eyes were sunken in his starving frame, highlighted by his long lashes. Something in those eyes tugged at Harry's heart and he made a decision.

"No problem, Draco," he said.

Draco moved back to his corner and Harry sat in his with his back to the metal bars that leached out his heat. He continued to stare at that little star, their only source of light, and he wished and wished and wished.

* * *

"I'm back, boys. Aren't you happy?" The words sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Sitting, directly facing the door, he looked over at Draco, who had resumed his beaten position hiding in the corner.

Greyback stepped forward out of the darkness and smiled at Harry when he saw he wasn't cowering. "You?" he asked surprised. "Ready for a little romp?" He jangled the key and opened the door. The squeak harmonized with the thudding of Harry's heart.

"Why don't you use any spells?" Harry asked, trying to add steel to his voice, but it cracked nonetheless.

The werewolf laughed. "What? You can't feel it, boy? The place is a null. Ain't no magic working here."

The door stood open. Greyback looked over at Draco, ogling his scrawny arse, and licked his lips.

"Isn't it my turn?" Harry said, pushing himself to his feet and stepping forward. "He gets all the fun." His bladder felt weak. He took another step forward, his heart racing to escape his chest and escape his stupid decisions and escape this fucking Hell.

"Ah, Rowle not enough for ya, huh? Always knew the little hero was a pansy-arsed slut. Get over here slut." He reached for Harry and tugged him out of the cage. Harry glanced over his shoulder as he was dragged to his fate and saw Draco staring after him with open mouthed shock.

"Over you go," Greyback growled as he pushed Harry over the table and kicked open his legs. There was never any preparation, never any lubrication, just rough, violent sex and as Greyback thrust into him, tearing open his forever sore and injured anus, as he growled things like "Take it, all of it," and "Fucking greedy slut," Harry closed his eyes and imagined the horror in Draco's eyes when he thought Greyback would take him again. Imagined Draco and tried to forget the nightmare of existence in here.

* * *

The slam of the door echoed through the open room and Draco crawled over to Harry, all legs and arms as he kept low to the ground.

"You didn't… didn't have to do that for me," he said quickly, like he was afraid now that the words were said, it would be Draco's turn with Greyback.

Harry was sore, but his bleeding was less than it had been and he was sickened that his body was getting used to this. With a shrug he brushed off Draco's apology, not looking up at him.

"I can take it," he said.

"I'll take Rowle next," Draco offered and Harry nodded to his feet. He didn't want to give up Rowle in exchange for Greyback and then he hated himself for feeling like he wanted any of it. He didn't!

"Did you hear Greyback?" Harry asked, changing the subject. "No magic."

"Yeah, I did. I guess they felt it necessary, being the wizarding hero and everything. Master of wandless magic." Draco chuckled and the sound was so alien he stopped after only a few _ha-has_, letting it die in the empty air.

"I can't, you know. Do wandless magic. I'm pants at nonverbal."

"Me, too." A pregnant pause filled the air and Harry jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder. "Harry?" Draco's questioning tone probed him to look up and he gave into it.

"Yeah?" He returned Draco's gaze.

"Thanks." Something about Draco seemed lighter; he looked less sunken, less like the walking dead.

"No problem," Harry said with a frown; his lips quivered. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't cry. But then Draco hugged him, nothing tentative or shy, he reached out and wrapped him up in his arms and held him and Harry let his anguish escape, all the fear and self-loathing, and his pain flooded out through his eyes and nose and his split, chapped lips.

**One hundred and forty-two days to one hundred and twenty-nine days until: **

Things happened on a regular schedule. Harry tried to get Greyback to take him out of the cage and use him instead of Draco, and Draco would step up when Rowle showed up. Greyback was never as bad to Harry as he was to Draco, but he wasn't as easy as Rowle was, either. Food, fucking, shitting, being held by Draco. It became dependable, steady.

**One hundred and twenty-eight days until: **

"Happy Christmas, boys," Rowle said and threw in their plates. Next to a pile of mashed potatoes tinged pink was a small lump of mince-meat pie, its brown innards oozing out from under the crust.

**One hundred and twenty-six days until: **

It was one of those days Greyback had insisted on his 'girly boy,' and it took Harry forever to get Draco to come back out of his shell and talk to him again.

"We have to get out of here," Harry said, petting at Draco's hair. Long strands of it began to come out and tangle in Harry's fingers, so he stopped. He couldn't handle the idea of Draco losing his hair.

"Yeah?" Draco said, his voice hollow. Harry wasn't sure if he was questioning Harry's opinion or agreeing that it was a good idea.

"Yeah." He decided he'd just agree.

"How?"

That was the real question. Harry knew they couldn't overpower either of the men, and nobody else had ever come into their room. The space between the bars was too thin to squeeze through, even in their emaciated state. They couldn't perform magic. They had no weapons.

"We'll think of something," Harry said, already losing that brief spark of anger, of determination. He pulled Draco to him and held him tight. They'd gotten used to using each other for comfort in ways that would have shamed him in _the world out there_, though he wasn't sure if that place even existed anymore. Out there.

Looking up at the bulb he made his wish again. _Please. Get us out of here._ It flickered.

The far door clicked open and the two prisoners split apart, moving to their respective corners. Harry didn't know who it was, so he kept his head down, his back to the cage door. Greyback had just had Draco; a direct return would be an aberration to the man's behavior.

Soft steps—not Greyback's usual stomping nor the quick clacking of Rowle's hard boots—approached the cell in a slow, measured pace. Then the same outer door slammed open.

"You can't be in here…" Greyback protested to the new arrival.

"I merely wanted to see what pets you had trapped down here, werewolf," came a rasping voice that seemed oddly familiar. If it was smoother and louder, he would have said it sounded like Professor Snape. Same cadence, same tone, same condescension. But that man was dead.

He chanced it and snuck a peak over his shoulder. And gasped.

"Pro… Professor?" Harry said in awe. Movement to his right alerted him that Draco had also turned and looked up at the ghost.

But this ghost looked solid.

The man stood tall, as tall as Harry remembered him, and his long, black hair hung greasy around his face. He wore his usual black robes, but wrapped around his throat was a long length of white, silk cloth.

Briefly, for the sharpest moment, Harry was certain he saw sorrow in those eyes, but it flittered away in such a way that Harry was certain he would see promise in Death himself walking through that door.

"Ah. I understand now. These are the little pets you and Rowle have been talking about. Taking your pleasure with naked, teenage boys beaten into submission is quite manly of you." He turned his back on the cage so swiftly his robes billowed around his calves, and Harry's throat closed around itself as he wanted to reach out, to beg Snape to get them out of there, to save them.

"Shut yer mouth…" Greyback began, but did not finish as Shape drew a sword from under the folds of his robe and cleanly lopped off Greyback's head. The wound sizzled.

Harry and Draco stared in awe.

He wiped off his sword then bent down and came back up with the keys in one hand and a wand in the other. He efficiently unlocked the cage, none of that rattling Greyback always affected, and swung the door open. The captives made no move.

"Stop gawking and get out here," he hissed. "Filthy brats. We've been looking for you for weeks now; the least you could do is show some aptitude at self-preservation and follow me out of this room."

He turned his back and strode towards the door.

Eagerly, Harry limped after and then noticed Draco was not by his side.

"Draco!" Harry whispered urgently. "Come on."

"But… But they'll see. They'll see us… they'll know," Draco said hesitantly and for the first time since Harry had found him here in the cage, he tried to cover himself.

Harry lurched up to him, his muscles protesting for the lack of use, and gripped Draco's upper arm, the same arm branded by the Dark Mark.

"Come. Now." Harry ordered and dragged Draco after Snape, who they found waiting by the phantom exit they'd heard open and close for weeks now but had never set eyes on. The door to freedom.

"Here." Snape handed Harry his robe. Gratefully, Harry grabbed for it and wrapped it around himself and Draco. Then he held out Greyback's wand. Harry took it. "Now, you miscreants, follow me."

There was something comforting and grounding in having Snape insult them at a time like this. With his arm around Draco's waist, the two teenagers followed Snape through a long series of hallways, passing closed doors. Eventually they passed beyond the null and the magic within the wand Harry held tingled along his dulled senses. A few times they had to duck into an empty room to avoid a passer-by, but finally Snape led them to a long hallway tiled in brown with a single door at the end.

"Both of you stay behind me. The room at the end of the hallway is the Apparition Chamber and we can escape through there. However, it is guarded. Can you fight?" Snape asked in his choked whisper. Now that he was closer, Harry could see white scar tissue peaking beyond the edge of the silk scarf.

Draco seemed three steps away from fainting and was leaning heavily on Harry, so Harry said, "I can, sir. Draco's a bit run down."

Snape examined Draco then thrust his wand into his hand. "Do what you can with that."

"But, sir!" Draco exclaimed in shock, his gaze reverent on the wand. Harry, never in a million years, could ever imagine Snape handing over his wand to anybody.

"I have my sword and we need all three combatants. Ready, Potter? Draco?" he asked, florescent lighting glinted off the silver blade of his brandished sword.

Harry hitched Draco up more solidly against his side. "Yes, sir," he said with as much strength as he could muster. Draco nodded, holding out the wand.

"Good, then, here we go."

They walked down the hallway, slowly and with care. Harry had Greyback's wand at the ready, and Draco seemed to have found enough energy to walk on his own. They reached the door and Snape looked at them each in turn and they nodded. With a twist of the knob and they burst through the door.

In a flash Snape's sword, glittering sliver in the bright light of the room, came down across one man's raised wand arm, cutting clean through it. Then he turned to cut down the next and Harry, stunned, marveled at such skill he didn't notice another man to the side aiming his wand at him and Draco.

"Harry!" Draco called, pulling his attention to the threat, and Harry lifted his wand and without any thought cast out: "_Avada Kadavra_!" The man fell dead.

"This way," Snape said, his clothing covered in blood, and they followed him onto a circular marking on the floor. He reached out and Draco handed him his wand. Then, with Snape's arms wrapped around them, they Disapparated.

**One hundred and twenty-five days until: **

They were free.

Within the last twenty-four hours they'd popped from one location to the next, constantly on the move and Harry was exhausted. At intermissions, they caught naps, and then Snape would rouse them in his rough voice and encircle them both in his arms and side-along Apparate them to another location. It was wearing on them all.

Finally, they landed in a copse of bare deciduous trees on the edge of a clearing. Snape cast a few spells and seemed satisfied enough to walk into the snow-dusted valley, and then he disappeared.

"What?" Harry cried out in panic. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't leave them here! Draco was so comatose that he blindly followed Harry's every direction and wouldn't be any help if they needed to defend themselves. They had no clothing and Harry thought his feet were frost bitten even with his attempts at warming charms. Greyback's wand did not like him.

It was too much for him and he fell to the ground with Draco, the cloak slipping over his bare shoulder. He began to cry.

Then Harry spotted a ripple through the air and Snape reappeared. "If you would rather stay out here in the elements, by all means do so. However, if you would gather your wits about you and follow me through the wards, you would find more civilized conditions."

He didn't say more civilized than what, but anything would be a palace to Harry at this point. Numbly he nodded and rose to his feet, dragging Draco up with him. With most of Draco's weight, plus his own, he trudged through the shimmering magical field, and with Snape by his side, he finally saw the tiny cottage by the edge of a glistening lake.

The cottage had a thatched roof dusted with dry snow and a little brick chimney. The robin's egg blue paint was peeling near a rectangular window and a small garden full of dead weeds and a bush full of twigs greeted them at the red door. It was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen and the tears began flowing freely down his face, leaving tracks through the grime.

He didn't care that Snape was watching him. He didn't care that he was naked and sharing a single robe with another nude wizard. He didn't care that he hadn't bathed in as far back as memory existed for him. He was free and this was beautiful and he would never, ever go back to that again.

"Well," Snape said and Harry looked up at his old professor who he'd seen die; whose memories he was intimately familiar with. What he saw caused the tears to flow even stronger, a tsunami he'd been holding within that cage of steel bars. With a wail the pain and the anguish he'd bricked behind crumbling walls now burst. With a look of mingled compassion and sorrow, Snape stepped forward and opened the door. "Come on Draco. Harry. Let's get you a bath."

He examined Severus; his desperate flutter of heart beats, his erratic breath calmed at the stern look. Severus was here. Severus: mean, snide, pessimistic. He was here and he would take care of Harry even as he realized he couldn't take care of himself.

* * *

Harry'd let Draco bathe first and while his old classmate was in the bathroom, Harry'd remained wrapped up in Snape's robe, suddenly suffocating in the humiliation of all that had happened to him. He now understood Draco's words as they were being sprung free. _I don't want them to see._

He'd found he couldn't look Snape in the eye that whole day and when he had gotten his time in the bathroom he scrubbed his skin raw. He'd stayed in there for hours even after the water had gone cold. He didn't want to go out there. He didn't want to face them, anyone.

"Harry?"

It was Snape, and that shook Harry from head to foot. He sounded like he cared. When had Snape ever cared?

Then, "You will extricate yourself from the washroom this instant; others need to use the facilities as well."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled. Snape snorted through the door, but said nothing else. It was a typical sound and it held no hurt for Harry. This devil of a man, dark and nasty with the most acrimonious disposition had saved Harry. When had his devils become angels?

Harry had taken one more look at himself in the mirror. His face was colored and cracked, he was scrawnier than he'd ever been, and his eyes… even to himself he looked haunted.

After he'd left, avoiding Snape's pointed scowl, he'd lain on a twin bed in a room that he was to share with Draco, one of only four rooms in the entire cottage. Clothes had been waiting in a neat pile on a small chest of drawers and he'd pulled them on as Draco looked away. The sleeves of the shirt hung past his fingertips. He tried to sleep, but he found he couldn't. The bed was too soft, the room too dark, the air too warm. He swore he could hear something, just… just beyond normal hearing. Someone was out there. Finally, after fitful tossing and turning, Draco'd gotten up and flicked on the light, then without a word, he crawled into bed next to Harry, back to back.

In time, Harry slept.

When he woke not long after, Draco had an arm across his chest and things seemed, not necessarily normal, but at least doable. He was free. Snape—alive—had saved them. They were hidden away, to the best of their ex-Professor's ability, and they were safe.

However, even with these thoughts in his head, Harry was still frightened, scared stiff and he wished he could just sink into the bed, hide away in a corner and never have anyone look at him again.

A soft knock ticked on their bedroom door. Then Snape's rough voice called through: "Breakfast. The day wastes."

The day wastes. As his last month had wasted. Last few months.

Neither he nor Draco stirred.

There wasn't a clock and the curtains were thick enough that, though light slipped through, daylight was still held at bay. He had no idea of the time. Time was an illusion anyway. Time didn't matter.

But his bladder wasn't an illusion and too soon he had to rouse Draco.

"I gotta piss, get off me," he said. Draco lifted his head and looked at him, his thinning hair clean but still dingy; his eyes flat as if all that haughty spark that had burned within him had been burned away.

"I have to go, too," he replied. Then he looked at the door. Something in the set of Draco's shoulder, or maybe it was the tone of his voice, affected Harry.

"Come on, then," he said, and Draco nodded and followed Harry out of the room.

They crossed the hall and entered the loo together. Draco went first, and Harry looked away, just as they had in their cage, then Harry faced the bowl and urinated in relief. As he was washing his hands, a luxury he fully intended to utilize, he caught Draco standing behind him reflected in the cabinet mirror. He and Draco, yin and yang, dark and light. Something about this image, of them standing together, survivors of the same horror, seemed heavy to Harry. Not a burden, but something else. He felt responsible for him.

And somehow, it didn't feel wrong.

They watched each other, their eyes meeting in the reflective surface. Harry smiled. It wasn't huge and it wasn't full of humor, but it was meant to reassure and in response Draco's lips twitched in a miniscule smile as well.

"We're out of there," Harry said. "We're free."

Draco nodded and something about his posture hummed.

"What?" Harry asked, wishing Draco would just come out and do or say what he wanted to.

Draco stepped close, his chest to Harry's back, and he tilted his head to rest his cheek on Harry's shoulder. He stared at the door, just leaning against Harry, drawing support that he willingly gave.

A knock on the bathroom door startled them both. Draco took a step away, focused on the door. "Lunch is ready if you two care to join me," Snape growled.

Again, in the mirror, their eyes met and in response to some signal in their own silent language, they went out to the small dining table.

On it were croissants, jam, fruits and a glass pitcher of pumpkin juice.

Food. Real food, not the travel rations Snape had fed them yesterday, nor the putrid mess they'd been eating in their captivity. Harry walked to the table, intending to sit, but he noticed Draco hadn't moved.

"Come on, Draco. Sit here." Harry held out a chair and Draco sat. Harry refused to look at Snape, knowing their every action was being monitored, distilled like the effects of a new ingredient in a potion.

He looked at the piles of food and didn't even remotely feel hungry. Looking at each item, he then thought of eating it and his stomach roiled. Even the fresh croissant odor didn't entice him. Instead he filled his glass with juice and took a small sip. It was so sweet it hurt his tongue.

Draco was watching him and Snape was watching Draco.

"Do you want something?" the man asked Draco.

"How is it?" Draco asked Harry.

Harry pondered. "Sweet." Draco nodded, like that was exactly what he thought, too.

"Sir, do you mind if I get some water?" Harry asked. Snape flapped his hand at him in dismissive annoyance. Harry got up and took his glass to the small kitchen that was part of the whole main room of the cabin.

"So, Draco," Snape began. "How are you feeling?"

Harry turned the faucet and filled his glass. The water was clear, he could see through to the other side of the glass, a world in curved distortion. He didn't hear Draco say anything so he turned to see the exchange. Draco was looking at Harry. Snape turned around in his chair and looked at Harry, too.

"Why are you looking at Potter, Draco?" Snape asked. Though his voice had that harsh rasp—from severed vocal cords from Nagini's bite Harry'd assumed—it still held power and Harry knew he would be hard pressed to refuse Snape an answer.

Slightly panicked, Draco looked to Snape, then back up to Harry. Harry quickly crossed the room to him and Draco reached out and gripped his arm.

"It's okay, Draco," Harry said. "Snape saved us. We can trust him. You can talk to him." At least, Harry assumed they could trust Snape. He had gotten them out of there, but why weren't they taken to Hermione and Ron, or to other Order members? Why were they stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with nobody to rely upon other than the very man who brought them here? It was still a cage, even if a much nicer one.

"Draco. How are you feeling?" Snape tried again.

"Fine, Severus," Draco said, casting quick glances to Harry, his eyes returning to Severus each time.

"Did you want to eat something?" the older man asked.

"Nothing sounds good," he explained and then released his grip on Harry's arm and placed his hands folded in his lap.

"What would _sound_ good?" His lip curled as he studied them down the slope of his long nose.

Harry and Draco shared a look. What did sound good? Crackers, simple crackers. And the water was refreshing and in reflex he handed Draco his glass who took a long drink.

"Something simple, sir. We haven't eaten… well for a while." He didn't want to tell Snape that they'd eaten food that their captors had probably pissed in. Even if, he figured, Snape probably knew.

Snape stood and went to a cupboard that contained simple bread and soda crackers, along with boxes and cans of other foodstuffs. It went back so far, it surely must have been enchanted wizard-space. He pulled out the bread and placed a few slices on a plate, then pushed the rich food aside to set the plate in the center of the table. Draco looked at Harry and then reached out to take a slice and shyly bit into it.

"Good?" Harry asked. Draco nodded, so Harry grabbed himself a slice and took a bite.

It tasted so… clean. So unadorned and pure, like the food was broken down to its base element, not overly processed or embellished. Harry smiled.

Draco smiled, too.

**One hundred and twenty-two days until: **

He flicked the wand hard, angrily shaking it until finally it glowed with a weak, pitiful light.

Draco snorted and Harry scowled at him.

"Fine, you try it," Harry said, roughly shoving the wand at Draco. Draco flinched away, shaking his head.

"No. I'm not touching that filthy thing."

Suddenly, Harry felt contrite and dropped his hand holding the wand to his lap. "Sorry… didn't think." Draco shrugged.

The wand _definitely_ didn't like him.

Snape entered from the outside, brushing off a dusting of snow as he stomped his shoes on the woven mat. He scrutinized the two boys sitting inches away from the fire on the worn, wool rug. Greyback's wand slowly dimmed until it went dark, leaving the fire as their only light source.

"That wand will never consider you its master," Snape said with his typical sneer.

"I know," Harry spat out, annoyed and defensive. "But I'm tired of not being able to do anything." He missed magic.

The sneer suffered, losing its bite, and Snape nodded his head once, a slow exaggerated motion. Harry looked away.

The man passed them going to the refrigerator and sink; he lit a lamp and began pulling things out for dinner. In rushed decisiveness, Harry jumped to his feet and moved to stand by Snape. The man's fingers were digging into the leaves of a head of lettuce. "I'll help," he said. Even if he couldn't do magic, he still needed to do something.

"Thank you." Snape handed him a knife and the lettuce and Harry began chopping. More vegetables were piled before him: tomatoes, an onion, a green pepper and some celery.

"Hey, Draco!" Harry called.

"Don't look at me, I'm not a house-elf," Draco said, watching the two men preparing dinner. A large pot sat over a coil burner on the stove and Snape was adding meat and spices to it. Looked like stew and salad tonight. Harry's stomach rumbled; all food was good food and their shrunken bodies were filling out with each meal.

"Prat," Harry scolded with little venom. "Entertain us, then."

"How?"

"I don't know. Do something funny. Impersonate a ferret," Harry said with a laugh as he looked over his shoulder at Draco. Draco stood back lit by the fire, a fist anchored on each of his hips. Harry quickly faced forward, examining the pile of chopped greenery. Oops.

"I have something better in mind," Draco said, his voice low and threatening. Harry swallowed. Beside him Snape snorted, but continued to add spices to the pot.

"There once was a man from Nantucket," Draco said in cadence.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Whose dick was so long he could suck it." Harry dropped the knife. He turned around and looked at Draco, _looked_ at him. Dirty jokes?

The blond man sneered, and then winked. Harry didn't know what to think.

"While wiping his chin; He said with a grin; 'If my ear were a cunt, I would fuck it.'"

So shocked his jaw dropped. Snape released a single, loud snort as Draco smirked in triumph.

Unfortunately, that was not the only dirty limerick Draco knew and he regaled them endlessly as the two men in the kitchen completed dinner.

"Draco, where in Merlin's name did you learn all those?" Harry finally had to ask, after he'd given up being affronted. It wasn't like he'd never told dirty jokes before.

"Oh, please Potter," Draco said in mock distress, "Clearly your Quidditch afters were as safe as baby daycare. Not like Slytherin's."

"I can only imagine," Snape murmured. The stew was almost done and the salads were nicely arranged on three plates.

"But none of us could compete with Hufflepuff's," Draco continued with all seriousness. He was lounging on a wooden chair, lording over his kitchen staff.

"Huh?" Harry asked, leaning against the counter. Had he really been that out of the loop? Well, there was that whole Dark Lord thing to deal with; it did account for a few missed parties and coming of age milestones.

"Oh yes, their parties were the best. You should have seen Smith performing Karaoke with Abbot's panties on his head. It became a regular occurrence. No self respecting Slytherin would have been caught doing any of that, of course it was entertaining to watch."

"Oh, the things I missed out on…" Harry said in false woe. Snape shook his head.

"I clearly was remiss in my inattention towards those badgers," he said, and Harry and Draco burst out laughing.

They were laughing. Less than a week ago Harry had been living in Hell.

They set the table together with Harry and Draco on one side, Snape on the other. A four-armed, brass candelabra was their only light source, other than the ever blazing fire. Each had a bowl of stew, a chunk of bread, some salad and a glass of red wine. Harry looked at the wine, then at Snape. He'd never given them wine before.

"Happy New Year," he said.

Oh. The New Year? He hadn't even had a clue. He lifted the glass with a grin and tinked it with the other two men's. "Happy New Year."

**One hundred and twelve days until: **

After nearly two weeks of fumbling, cursing, and throwing the damned stick against the wall, Harry nearly snapped Greyback's wand in two in a petulant rage.

Snape stalked up and plucked it from his fingers. "None of that." He stowed the wand away in a box that he placed on the mantle. "We might have need of it, eventually."

Then, with an open palm, he offered his own wand to Harry. "Try this."

**Ninety days until: **

"Time for breakfast," Snape said from the other side of the door.

Harry'd been awake for a while. Something was different today. Something seemed… hopeful.

He chided himself on this stupid optimism, but he'd been with Snape in the cabin for two months now and the world hadn't exploded. Nobody had come to take him away. Finally, he could get a full night's sleep without being woken up by nightmares of metal screeching or Greyback's gruff voice.

Draco's arm, as usual, was lying across Harry, a solid, comforting weight. Only this time Draco was calmly rubbing him, slow circles over his T-shirt clad chest. He'd been doing it for a half hour. While new, and therefore odd, it was nice and Harry didn't want to get up because it would mean Draco would stop and Harry didn't think he was ready for that.

"Harry?" Draco asked, his warm breath puffing across Harry's throat.

"Yeah?" He spoke quietly so as not to disturb this perfect moment.

"Do you think…? What they did to us…" Draco stopped and Harry waited. It was the first time Draco had talked about back then… about their captivity, and Harry wanted to let him speak. Finally, he continued in a very tiny voice. "Do you think it twisted us?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

Draco stopped his petting and sat up. "Nothing," he said with a cheeky grin, and the sight of that grin lifted Harry's burdens. "Let's eat."

The two got out of bed and met Snape at the dining table.

"Good morning, sir," Draco said.

"Hey, Severus," Harry welcomed.

"Good morning, you miscreants. Sleep well?" Snape wore his usual sneer. Instinctively Harry still bristled, but it was only in reflex. This was just Snape, he was always snarky.

"Yes, thanks," Harry said as he piled his plate up with food. Draco did the same.

They ate companionably, chatting about inconsequential things as each of the men ate a full breakfast. Draco stood and mumbled about a shower leaving Harry and Snape alone.

"Severus," Harry began, then paused fumbling for the words he wanted to use. "What's going on out there?"

Snape's dark eyes drilled into Harry, but Harry simply stared back. Snape rarely made him squirm anymore.

"War, Harry. War is going on."

"Still?"

"Yes. There are many who are still searching for you. The Ministry and Order are winning, but it is still too dangerous to allow you the freedom I'm sure you yearn for."

Harry shook his head frantically when Snape suggested freedom was a desired choice. "No, I'm happy here. I don't want to be out there." He reached for his glass with a shaking hand, concentrating to steady it. He lifted the glass for a drink; it no longer shook. "I just wonder… How are Ron and Hermione? Hagrid? All of our friends?"

"I do not know. I've been hiding here as long as you have."

"How did you find us?"

"Are you ready for this conversation?" Snape asked, studying Harry.

"Yeah… I am. I don't think Draco is, yet."

"Agreed. I will tell you everything, then. Why don't you get dressed for the out of doors; we shall walk."

"I'll let Draco know," Harry said and left for the small bathroom as Snape cleaned up the table.

He knocked on the door, but there came no answer.

Draco'd been in the bathroom for a long time. Sometimes Harry could hear him crying and he would go in to hold Draco. He worried about his friend, what Greyback and Rowle did to him. He always seemed to be worrying.

"Draco?" No answer. "Draco, I'm coming in."

"Wait! No!" Harry heard, the words rushed and frantic. Certain something was wrong he opened the door and stepped in.

Draco was leaning against the sink, trousers around his ankles, one hand dropped from his cock and the other came from behind himself to hang by his hip. His skin flashed a deep red as he grabbed for his pants.

Harry stared, stunned.

Draco had been wanking and fingering himself. They gawked at each other, mouths wordlessly expressing a filibuster. Propriety said Harry should leave, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the sight.

Harry's only sexual experiences had been a few snogs and gropes with soft, friendly girls, and then rape. He hadn't even touched himself since their escape; hell his cock hadn't given one twitch since his capture. The idea was so farfetched, that it took him a moment to realize anyone would want sex.

"I'm so sorry," he blurted. He turned and pulled opened the door to slip out, knowing he'd dashed Draco's mood to the tiles.

"Is anything wrong?" Snape asked once Harry returned to the kitchen.

"No," Harry assured, his face burning. They stared at each other for a moment and Harry worried that Snape might press him further, or read his mind, so he said, "I haven't been out at all. I'm glad we're going walking together."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but he nodded his head slowly. "It is good to breathe fresh air. How is Draco?"

"Oh…fine. Just fine," Harry said quickly, avoiding Snape's searching gaze.

A heavy pause hovered between them until Snape said, "Take a robe, it's chilly out."

The two men bundled themselves and stepped out into the early afternoon sun.

It was wide open out there in the valley and a healthy amount of panic washed over Harry. His eyes darted around, seeking out any threat: a man lurking nearby, a flash of white Death Eater mask. It was vast and there was nowhere to hide. Instinctively he leaned close to Snape, touching sides with him.

"Are you quite alright, Mr. Potter? Do you need me to hold your hand?"

Harry's stomach fell and his heart stuttered, and he almost lurched back into the cottage, even with Draco wanking in there. Screw Snape, he didn't need this. He'd just go back and… But a hand grabbed his and held tight. Confused he looked up into Snape's face. He wore his sneer like armor. The surly man would never win people over with his personality. Finally, in that moment, Harry saw that it was his actions that defined him.

Shyly, Harry entwined his fingers with Snape's, his heart flipping for altogether other reasons, and together they stepped away from the safety of the solid blue walls.

"I'm scared, sir," he said quietly.

"Do not be. I am here. I dare say your shadow is the worse thing to afflict you right now."

Harry looked down at this shadow and released a strained laugh.

No, he would not hide from his shadow or live in fear. He was strong and though he almost gave up back in that cage, Draco had rescued his will and now Snape had rescued his courage. He felt odd walking hand in hand with Snape, but Harry appreciated his presence and sometimes when the grip of their now sweaty hands wasn't enough, Harry would lean against Snape's shoulder in the briefest of moments to assure himself he wasn't alone.

They spoke no words during their external tour, the stress of the open space enough for Harry, but tiny steps were still steps. And while Snape still sneered and jibed and condescended, he never scoffed at their ordeal and he never humiliated anymore. Perhaps he'd been changed as well.

When they returned, Draco was hiding in their room. Harry left Snape to organize or prepare or do whatever it was he did in their small cottage when Harry and Draco were locked away in their room. It was almost like they were in a privileged club. Harry wished he'd had no such mark of distinction.

"Draco," he called as he pushed open the door. Draco was laying face down in his bed, the blankets that had been straightened from that first night Draco had slept with him were mussed where Draco's body lay; a sure sign that he was horrified or pissed or _something_ at Harry.

He crossed the room and sat on the edge; the mattress dipped and half his butt dangled off. With one hand he reached out to touch Draco, rub his back maybe, but inches from contact he pulled back, unsure. Draco was always the one who initiated contact; by ignoring Harry was he expressing a true desire to be alone?

The air seemed thicker, heavier as time inched by. He felt the need to squirm or leave, but now that he was here, he couldn't just run off.

Fuck it. He laid his hand between Draco's shoulder blades.

"How can you touch me?" The words were thick.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and then began to slowly rub his friend's back.

"How can you want to be near me after what you saw?" he whispered, as if voicing his fear would bring down Harry's hatred.

"Uh… Well…" There wasn't a clue in the world to help Harry know what to say to make Draco feel better. That being realized, he decided on the truth. "Well, I was shocked… I mean… I haven't even had a stiffy, and there you were…" He stopped speaking, feeling like a fool.

"I can't help it. I'm so dirty. They twisted me. I don't want them,_fuck no_, but… I… I want something and I feel like a part of me is missing. Why is a part of me missing?" Draco rolled over. He had a scrunched up face and red eyes. The Draco he knew, long ago, the unbroken version of this man, would never have let anyone see him cry.

He hated that Draco was crying. He gathered him up in his arms and held him and no worry of anything, embarrassment, pride, Snape walking in on them, would have stopped him.

"Draco, it's okay. So, you wank and do… other stuff. You're a guy. Guys do these things." But guys didn't normally cry to each other and hug, guys didn't stick their fingers up their arses, but he didn't mention that. He was certain neither of them would be a typical bloke ever again.

"Harry," Draco murmured against his neck and there was something to the sound of it. Needy, longing, sensual and Harry stiffened.

"Yes?" he asked, unsure if Draco really needed a reply.

Then Draco pulled back and looked hard in Harry's eyes. "Harry… Would you…? Could I…?"

Harry shook his head in confusion. "What Draco? Just tell me."

But instead of telling, Draco opted to show and he leaned forward and pressed his moist lips to Harry's. Firmly they remained there, neither one moving. A tear brushed against Harry's nose. It was nothing like the other kisses Harry had received which were all wet and full of movement and a little tongue. This was chaste, tentative and finally Draco pulled back, eyes wide in alarm.

"I'm sorry," he bumbled out in apology, but Harry shook his head again, this time smiling.

"Don't be," he said in a very small voice. "It's okay." Then, this time, _he_ leaned forward and kissed Draco, no longer caught off guard, and as their lips touched, he opened them, just a bit and felt Draco respond in kind. Slowly, he moved his mouth, delighted that Draco kissed him back. When he pulled away Draco was grinning and Harry felt like the king of the world as he catalogued this away. Action Number 15 on how to make Draco smile: Kissing.

**Eighty-eight until: **

Soon kissing became his favorite thing to do.

They would snatch moments in bed, before sleep and after waking; they would steal moments behind Snape's back. They would seize precious, precious moments. Draco smiled more; Harry felt light inside, the huge weight of the past having eased its mighty hold. Facts such as Draco was a boy or that Harry still didn't get an erection were all inconsequential; they didn't matter in their cloistered little world. They both talked to Snape incessantly, asking him about life, his past, even potions. The man seemed willing and almost eager to share words with them. However, since that day he and Snape had talked alone outside, Harry avoided questioning what had been going on out there. He liked watching Draco smile and he knew Draco wasn't ready. Finally, the young man was looking forward to the future instead of being trapped in the past. It was delicate, this life they led.

Harry loved kissing him and nothing could darken his days--lighter and lighter as they raced towards spring.

**Seventy-nine until: **

Tuesday was Harry's cleaning day. He grabbed for Snape' wand, which now rested in a leather holster hanging near the door for any of them to use. It wasn't like his old Phoenix wand, but it was certainly better than that stick of Greyback's, and he flourished and swished as he dusted, straightened and sent the linens to wash.

Snape was out, he often got cabin fever, and Draco pranced into the room and kissed Harry with as much vigor and tongue as he could manage. It was heaven.

"Let's surprise Severus today," Draco suggested once they tore their lips apart. They had their arms wrapped around each other to support them as they leaned back to talk.

"What do you have in mind? Surprise party? Dancing girls?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, he'd probably hex the girls and hide from the party. No, I was thinking more along the lines of cake."

"Cake? You sure this is a surprise for Severus and not a treat for you?" Harry squeezed him playfully.

Draco scoffed. "Of course not! I'm only thinking of our dear protector. He deserves a treat."

"Fine, let's make him a cake, but it's gotta be lemon. He likes lemon best, not chocolate, Draco."

"Yes, yes. Lemon it is."

They broke apart with one final kiss and dug through their stores looking for flour, sugar and the other important ingredients. They were out of baking soda, so had to make do with powder, and they only had twelve dozen eggs left under the stasis charm.

"This could be our last cake, what with running out of stuff. I doubt if Severus would appreciate us using all the sugar for cakes," Draco said sadly. Harry wondered exactly what they would do once the food ran out.

When Snape returned it was to two boys yelling "Surprise!" quick hugs from each of them and a lopsided lemon concoction. He scowled delightedly, and ate the cake.

**Fifty days until: **

Snape had caught them kissing, and now they rarely bothered to hide it.

But innocent bliss and tender kisses could only last so long. Harry understood this as he was awakened to Draco's firm erection brushing up against his thigh. He didn't mind, and it wasn't the first time this happened, but the idea, the _concept_ of someone's hard cock so close to him frayed his nerves. He resisted the urge to inch apart from Draco, to hide away, and instead gently brushed along Draco's forehead, trailing his fingers through his blond hair until he awoke.

His grey eyes, now bright and full of that defiance and vigor that Harry had thought had been lost forever, grew wide as he realized just exactly what he'd been doing. "Sorry," he mumbled pulling away from Harry.

"No, it's okay, Draco," he said quickly.

"It's not," Draco said, avoiding his eyes.

Reaching out, he grabbed Draco's shoulder and stopped him from rolling away. He waited patiently--they were both still so skittish--until Draco looked him in the eyes. "It is okay. You never, ever have to pull away from me." The worry line between Draco's eyes eased and a twitch to his lips put Harry at enough ease to do something that scared him shitless.

Slowly, keeping eye contact the entire time, Harry brought his hand under the covers and watched Draco's shocked expression as he tentatively touched the warm head of his penis through his thin boxers.

Draco let loose a soft gasp.

Swallowing hard, Harry danced his fingers over the fabric, up and down the length of Draco's hardness. It didn't seem so scary and as Draco's eyes practically rolled back, his mouth hung open in need, Harry snaked his fingers through the flap in the front.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco groaned.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, totally awed by Draco's reaction, completely flummoxed at what to do next.

"Hmm, Harry," Draco almost sobbed. "So good."

Urged by such bald praise, he began ghosting his fingers along Draco's shaft, amazed at the soft skin, the firmness of him. He was a bit longer than Harry remembered himself being, if perhaps not as thick. It'd been so long, an eon ago, since he'd rubbed himself hard.

Draco giggled, his eyes popping open, staring at Harry with such adoration Harry wondered if this was love. "Harder," he said breathlessly. "You're tickling."

"Oh! Sorry," Harry said with a grin and then wrapped his fingers around Draco and began one firm stroke after another.

"Fuck! Merlin… fucking _God_." Draco cried out, thrusting his hips with each of Harry's strokes, and Harry worried that Snape would overhear, but even a Body-Bind Curse couldn't stop him now.

Impulsively, he leaned down and took Draco's earlobe into his mouth, alternating between sucking and murmuring honeyed words. "So gorgeous, Draco. Come for me," Harry whispered, and kissed and Draco cried with each thrust, pumping his hips into the air as Harry held on, pulling and tugging and wishing he'd thought of lube before Draco stiffened and emptied himself all over Harry's hand.

Panting, Draco stopped moving, a largely formless lump in Harry's arms. Harry pulled out his hand and studied the mess. The semen was grey in color and slimy-sticky. Draco cracked his eyes open and watched as Harry brought his palm up to his mouth and licked it.

Draco's eyes sprung wide at the sight. "You know," he said, his voice completely languid and deeper than normal. "You keep doing that and I might have to tackle you for another go."

Harry chuckled and wiped his hand on a pair of wool socks tossed on the floor. It didn't taste bad, just bitter. The flavor lingered on the back of his tongue.

"How you feeling?" Harry finally asked.

Draco smiled like a contented cat, and then stretched his long body. His blond hair was fanned out over the pillow that he lay on, blending in with the golden sheets. Harry realized then how happy he was that Draco's hair had grown back to its usual thickness.

"Fantastic," Draco said in a half purr. "Merlin, Harry. I needed that. You're fantastic!" He lunged at Harry and kissed him deeply, letting Harry know just how much he appreciated the shared wank.

"If you two are finished in there, breakfast is ready."

Heat blazed over Harry's face, blossoming down his chest and painting his ears. "Oh my God. Snape heard you," Harry said in a devastated whisper.

"Oh really, I can't be arsed to care. That was too good to worry about Mr. Starched Pants out there," he giggled and Harry's jaw dropped at the audacity. Action Number 25 on how to make Draco smile: Mocking Snape.

**Forty-five days until: **

Draco was insatiable, but Harry didn't mind. Well, usually. He only minded when he would try to take his flaccid penis in hand to try to coax some life into it, making Harry feel inadequate, and Draco soon learned there were other fields better tended. He loved kissing Harry all over, but especially his neck where Draco seemed to take some warped pleasure in leaving bruises dotting over his skin in a moderately accurate map of Hawaii.

Snape would never shy away from the obvious, either.

"If you two are done attempting to fornicate your way to death, please join me for lunch."

The teenagers laughed while dressing and Snape would eye the love bites with a certain sense of amusement. They all sat for lunch together, just like breakfast and dinner, and dug into their quiche, which was the culinary delight of the day: Snape really was a skilled cook.

That afternoon while Draco was showering, Snape conscripted Harry to find potion ingredients and to pad their food supplies from the fields surrounding their cottage. While Harry harvested mustard greens and collected nuts around the oak trees, Snape gathered mushrooms. Cumulonimbus clouds were building to the west as higher, round cirrus clouds breezed overhead, casting the collectors in and out of sunlight.

"Harry," Snape said after they'd finished and were sitting on a little hillock overlooking the lake. Harry chewed on a long grass stem, relishing the fresh, green taste. "We must speak about the war." His voice was barely above a whisper. A soft breeze blew through their valley and the rushing of the grasses seemed too simple, too peaceful compared to Snape's words.

It wasn't a conversation he really wanted to have. "Yes, sir?" he said, worried. Things had been so… safe.

"While you and Draco were enjoying a casual romp in the sack," he cocked an eyebrow and Harry thought he saw something other than Snape's usual stern amusement there, "I received a missive."

"What? Really? From who?" he asked eagerly, sitting up from his lounged position even as the stem dangled from his slack lips.

"From whom. And that would be Arthur Weasley."

"Did he say how Ron and Hermione are? Ginny? What's going on out there?" Even though he did enjoy this hollow existence, a very large part of him needed to know what was happening. Suddenly, he missed his friends.

"Your three hangers-on are fine, Harry." The use of Harry's name always eased Snape's harsh words. "Once I rescued you and Draco, I informed Mr. Weasley I was taking you two into hiding, but due to adverse events, have not been in contact since. Communiqué into and out of our safe location here is not a simple matter and I'm not precisely eager to chance discovery."

Months ago, Harry would have argued. Today, he just nodded. Somewhere between humiliation and pain, he'd learned to finally trust the older man. He blinked over at Snape and was surprised to see him studying Harry as well.

"What?" he asked, spitting out his grass.

"I said nothing." Snape's voice hissed at the force. "Now, listen brat; the Order and the Ministry are winning, but there are still enemies, supporters of the Dark Lord who feel he might rise again and those who want to pull together what straggling power there is left for themselves. I do not wish to leave, nor do I think either of you are ready. I am telling you this to prepare you. For you to prepare Draco. I am not sure when our time here will end."

Harry let it sink in. Voldemort's followers were still out there and soon Harry would have to leave and face them, face the world. Hadn't he already done his part? Pressure inflated in his chest and his breaths came quickly as he thought about his future. Short inhales and impatient exhales. His vision blackened and he thought about _out there_ and he thought about people looking at him, knowing what happened, and he began to weakly shake his head.

"Harry?" Snape asked.

"No," Harry mumbled, low to not attract untoward attention. "There're people out there." Before, when his mind focused on his friends he couldn't wait to get to them, now he dreaded his reunion.

"Yes, and you need to let that settle into your thick skull. You will eventually have to return." He reached out and awkwardly placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry flinched and stared over at Snape with wide, frightened eyes. Snape pulled his hand away.

He sighed and stood. "I'm going inside." Snape left Harry as the storm to the west grew.

**Forty days until: **

Thunder and lightening had kept Draco up the entire night and while Harry laid there with his eyes closed, Draco's shudders and whimpers denied him rest.

"Draco," Harry whispered, petting his thickening hair. "It's just a storm."

"I know," Draco said. He inched closer to Harry, radiating heat. A flash burst beyond the edges of the curtain and the light overhead flickered and went out. Draco stilled and the room festered in silence.

One. Two. Three. Four.

BANG!

Draco jumped, crying out and Harry grabbed him, wrapped him up in his arms, consoling him as best he could, but his own whine, alien and surreal, did little to boost their courage.

One. Two. Three.

BANG! The flashes came quicker, impressing the darkness around them and the rumble echoed outside. So loud, yet he could barely hear it over the banging and thumping of his heart. He gripped onto Draco, taking and offering whatever support he could.

Their door swung open. Snape held his wand aloft, the tip glowing beautiful, soft light. Harry's eyes were drawn to the light. Draco burrowed his head into Harry's chest, avoiding the lightening, avoiding the darkness, avoiding the world.

Fat rain drops beat against the thatched roof.

"Come out of there and sit with me by the fire," Snape ordered.

It was an ordeal to extricate Draco from Harry. Together, Snape and Harry had to peel away each finger where it'd bonded with Harry's shirt. Then Snape swaddled him up in a quilt, thick and heavy and the two lead him through the bedroom door to the couch, his head hung low.

Together, they sat on the couch. Harry to Draco's left, with Draco clinging tight, and Snape on Draco's right, a solid wall against the storm. The thunder raged around them, rattling the windowpanes and beating on the roof, but eventually the storm died away as the morning light seeped through the small windows. The fire blazed cheerily, a contrast to the atmosphere charged with ozone and fear.

Draco'd fallen asleep between the two men somewhere in the night. He twitched and whined, but Harry held him, though his arm had long ago gone numb, and Snape sat unwaveringly close by. Subtly, dawn broke, a morning full of pastels.

With grace, Harry slipped out from under Draco. He lifted his arms high and stretched, groaning at his sore muscles. He had to piss something fierce and padded his way to the bathroom in his thick socks. After he'd urinated and washed his hands, he returned and his eyes lingered on Snape and Draco. Draco shifted and was now leaning on the older man, who seemed to be studying Draco down the length of his nose, his features soft.

Then he looked up and spotted Harry. They looked at each other and in the space of three breaths, Snape donned a frown like a full set of clothes, slowly, methodically, like he'd been shocked to find he wasn't sneering and forgot how to put it back on.

Harry felt like he'd just spied on some private moment and had annoyed the older man. He'd thought they were all friends now. He'd never thought he was… what, in the way? In four strides he was by the door. "I'm going out," he said with his back to the men on the couch, then he opened the door and stepped outside.

A light rain still sprinkled over their valley, leaving concentric circles blooming over the surface of the lake. The tall grass had been stomped flat by the storm. He took a few steps away from the cabin and looked up at the roof. There were thin patches in the thatch that would need to be repaired. He thought of Snape's wand and shook his head. He wished he'd had his wand to make short work of the patching, but he'd lost it to the Death Eaters a lifetime ago.

A bird called to the left, a single, solitary cry into the quiet air. Moments passed and then another cry returned. Harry couldn't help but smile. At least the birds had someone.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, thinking about that look on Snape's face as she kicked stones and walked around the house. For some reason it made Harry feel strange to see the lack of a sneer on Snape's face, the compassion in his eyes. To know that he cared. He thought back to those memories of his, memories of his mother, and he knew Snape could love. A loving Snape was still just so foreign, like a belly-dancing Hagrid or McGonagall in a two-piece.

He looked up from the stone he'd been kicking and his breath caught at the sight. A double rainbow arched over the hills to the south, shimmering in the morning sun.

"Severus!" Harry called out. "Draco!" The rainbows traversed the sky; the multi-colored reflection doubling on the surface of the lake. It was spectacular. "Come here and look at this!"

He heard the door open then close and soft steps swished in the wet grass. He felt someone come up next to him.

"Isn't that amazing," Harry said with quiet awe.

"Yes, indeed," Snape's rough voice agreed. Harry twisted to look over his shoulder at Snape. He examined him, sharp eyes, beak of a nose, nasty hair. Harry smiled softly and Snape nodded in return, his own lips twitching just the slightest.

Maybe it was something he could become used to.

They stood together, watching the rainbow until it faded with the sprinkles. They were both damp, though Snape's wool kept him mostly dry. The water weight actually tamed Harry's hair.

"Shall we return and prepare breakfast?"

Harry nodded and they left the fresh, new world.

**Thirty-nine days until: **

He woke up alone. Panic juiced his heart with adrenaline and he jumped from his bed and tore through the door to the larger room. Draco and Snape were sitting on the couch together, watching the dancing flames in the fireplace.

They both turned to look over at him where he'd stopped in his tracks.

His heart turned from panic to breaking in a few short beats. He turned around and returned to bed.

A few minutes later the door cracked open. "Harry," Draco said softly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said into his pillow.

"You don't sound fine. Come on, just tell me."

As if it wasn't obvious. For an instant Harry was really pissed. "It's nothing."

A long pause. "Fine." The door shut.

That evening he joined the two men by the fire. They were playing a Muggle card came, trading off cards to each other and laying them down in piles. Draco had been laughing and Harry was tired of sitting in his room, alone. So he emerged and sat on the floor by the fire, not looking at them, not speaking to them, just sharing their space.

**Thirty-eight days until: **

Footsteps approached him from the behind, he could hear them pressing through the grass which had recuperated from the storm. They were intentional, gruff footprints, and Harry knew to whom they belonged. "Mr. Potter," Snape said. Harry flinched. "Are you finished with your pout?"

"I guess." He stared across the lake, down at his shoes. One shoelace was frayed on the end and his toe was almost poking through.

"Good. Please join us for lunch."

**Thirty-seven days until: **

It was with sadness that Harry watched Draco and Snape grow close. He felt no longer necessary. Since the storm he'd been so skittish and he went to Snape more often than Harry anymore.

He was chin deep in the tub, periodically lifting up his toe to turn the hot water nozzle, relaxing. He thought back to that day he'd walked in on Draco doing things… back there. He remembered being taken by those men and he didn't think the idea of anything _back there_ was really appealing.

Draco hadn't wanted to kiss him for three days now; he only seemed to want comfort. Harry missed the kisses.

He drained the tub and refilled it once more, the water even hotter. He had put a new charm, with Snape's help, on the water tank. He had all the hot water he ever needed. He missed his wand, and while Snape was incredibly accommodating by sharing his, he really needed his own. He wished he could stop moping but his heart ached so much.

He had so much to think about.

Lunch time arrived and the expected knock on the bathroom door dragged Harry back to the living world. His toes and fingers were deeply wrinkled and they felt numb to the touch. He felt numb all over.

"Harry," Draco called happily from the kitchen table. "We're waiting for you." He lifted up a long pretzel stick and chomped into it. Harry tried to smile; instead he sat at one end of the table, far away from the two Slytherins. He stared out the open window, his chin resting in his hand. It looked like a nice day outside.

"Harry, why are you still moping?" Snape asked. The bastard sounded smug, almost upbeat. Harry rolled his eyes from the window to Snape and shrugged.

"Not moping, sir."

Draco hopped his chair three times, moving right next to Harry. "What's wrong?" he asked, placing his hand over Harry's. Harry stared at the two hands, not really feeling Draco's touch.

"Nothing, just tired." And he was. He didn't sleep much last night, with Draco covering him like a blanket. Covering him, but no kisses, no touching. Did he do something wrong? Was he getting kisses from Snape? He looked over at the man, then sighed heavily and managed a smile for Draco. "Sorry, I'll keep out of your way today so I don't bother you." Maybe they wanted more time for kisses.

Draco pulled his hand away, sliding it across the table top and dropping it into his lap. He looked down. "You don't bother me, Harry."

Silence weighed heavy, suffocating the room.

Snape stood, scraping his chair across the wooden, plank floor. "Alright, Potter." Harry cringed. "What the hell is this about? Out with it!" Snape slapped his hand against he table, rattling the spoons and forks.

Harry couldn't meet his eyes. Draco began plucking at a finger nail.

With a deep breath Harry opened his mouth… then closed it. He realized how petulant he was acting and knew he couldn't tell them the truth. "I'm lonely," just wouldn't cut it. "You took Draco away from me," sounded even worse. "My cock has died; I carry around dead flesh," would only mortify him.

"I miss magic," he finally said. It _was_ one of the many things bothering him. "I want a wand. My own wand."

Draco snapped his head from staring at Harry to looking at Snape.

"I know," Snape said, clearly sounding like he understood as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I couldn't get your wands when I'd freed you. My only suggestion at our current predicament is to continue working with mine. I have no other options." Harry was happy the man hadn't offered Greyback's wand as an option. It showed he cared.

Harry nodded then returned his gaze out the window. Little yellow flowers were blooming across the field. They looked like stunted daisies.

* * *

That night he lay stiffly with Draco in their bed. One thin arm was stretched across his chest. Draco wasn't asleep either, Harry could feel the tension.

A canine howled far away, the sound only noticeable in the dead of the night.

"Should I leave or something?" Draco asked, his voice strained.

"No. Please don't." The words came quickly, too quick to pull them back.

Draco boosted himself up on his elbow and leaned forward to look at Harry's face. The overhead light that lit their room hiding nothing of his own anguish. Draco wanted to leave him.

"I don't want to leave, but you're really stressing me out. You won't say what's wrong."

Harry pulled his eyes away from Draco's and stared at the corner in the ceiling. A cobweb floated in non-existent wind.

He didn't know how to say that something had gone rotten inside. He was afraid that it'd almost seemed easier back in their cage. He didn't have to make these choices; he didn't have to feel passed over.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" He finally returned Draco's gaze. With a thick swallow, he said, "Don't leave."

A smile flashed across Draco's face, relieving some of the pointiness to his features. Something in those eyes boiled with anticipation and Harry's heart lurched. Those grey eyes opened a fraction wider and then he leaned down and kissed Harry.

Everything that'd been held tight within him was released, his muscles relaxed, the tension in his chest dissipated, his self-worth inched up a peg and he kissed back, fervidly, urgently. Draco moaned, moaned so seductively, so shamelessly that Harry had to have him, all of him. He had to make Draco his before anyone else did, before they went back to the world out there and Draco didn't need him anymore.

He pushed Draco back.

"Hey, what…" Draco asked, his lips red and wet.

"Get undressed," Harry ordered, already stripping his own shirt off and diving for the tie at his pants. They'd never been naked together before, not in a very long time. Not in a bed. Not like this.

Harry's blood roared in his ears and seemed to be filling ever portion of his body, except the portion he wanted filled. As Draco shucked off his own pants, Harry stared at this unmoving cock, lying there against his thigh like a deflated balloon.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, turning away. His ardor subdued in the face of his dismal performance. A chuckle from behind only drew Harry in further. How could he face Draco now, one of the only people he felt he could face in light of his current trial?

"Harry," Draco said, his voice soft and warm. "It's okay." A warm palm rested on Harry's cheek and pulled his face around. "It's okay," he said again, and leaned down to brush his lips back and forth across Harry's. Draco licked his bottom lip and he gasped. His body tingled everywhere, from the tip of his ears to the soles of his feet. Then Draco plopped onto the bed, dragging Harry down with him.

He had Draco naked in his bed. He had Draco here with _him_. He wasn't off with Snape, he was with Harry and something about that make the world a more solid place.

Eagerly, he kissed back. Hungrily he dined on Draco, his tongue, his lips, the tender skin behind his ears. Against his side he could feel Draco's erection, firm and hard, leaking at the tip and he gripped it, running his thumb over the head just to hear Draco gasp.

"I love it when you touch me, Harry. Don't ever stop touching me."

"I won't, Draco. I won't ever." With a steady grip he rubbed Draco, continuously, endlessly and as Draco clutched onto him, his body undulating with each stroke and pull, as he cried out Harry's name over and over as his fluids pumped out of his body, Harry was happy.

With half-lidded eyes Draco glanced at Harry. A content and peaceful smile brought out Harry's own grin. "Good?" he asked, tingeing pink even as he asked.

"Merlin, yes," Draco gushed, then giggled and the boys lay there together, giggling and petting, as the crickets chirped into the night.

**Thirty-six days until: **

That morning Snape knocked and said, "Glad to hear you two made up. Will you please join me for breakfast?" Draco's face contorted as he tried to hold in a laugh.

Harry didn't give a rat's arse that Snape heard.

"Coming, sir," he called back, diving at Draco to nibble at his neck.

**Thirty days until: **

His cup was empty so he stood to fill it from the sink. Over the last few days things had fallen into a comfortable routine. After he got over his jealousy, constantly supported by Draco's ravenous sexual needs and affection, he backed off of his overly possessive feelings.

He didn't need to be possessive of Draco, not with Snape. When he really thought about it, though the man was old, there was something about him. He protected them. He nearly died for them. As his stiffness eased, Harry could see another side to Snape, though neither romantic nor overt, he could be tender and thoughtful and he could see why Draco would spend long hours with him, talking, sometimes leaning together. He saw that something was growing between them and even a week ago he would have felt his world was threatened, but now, after he'd put hours of thought into it, he found he didn't mind.

He could share as long as he was still a part of Draco's life. He realized, he could share.

That night in bed, Harry steeled himself and asked, "Do you find Snape attractive?"

Draco stopped trailing his fingers over Harry's chest. "Why?"

Harry chuckled, his chest vibrating with the sound. "I just want you to know, if there is something between you two, I'm okay with it."

Draco sat up at that. "What? After that jealous pout you went through?" He gave Harry a long look that called him out on the table.

"I know, I'm sorry. I _was_ jealous. But…" he picked at the edge of the quilt, "I don't think that Snape would replace me. I think we could both be there for you." He finally looked up at Draco.

Draco's eyes were so open, his mouth quirked in a little 'o' of wonder. "Really?" Harry nodded.

Draco pounced and began kissing him silly. Action Number 32 on how to make Draco smile: Giving him what he wants.

**Twenty-five days until: **

The days were warm in early April, and the three had taken to sitting on the hill together in the high, green grass. Snape, or sometimes Harry—Draco never offered, apparently he was _not_ a house-elf—would make them a lunch and together they would sit and eat sandwiches or baked goods. Their food stores were growing threateningly low and Snape's curses grew more frequent about the lack of some vital ingredient. They finished the last of the potatoes only two days ago and the carrots were next.

That morning Harry'd helped Snape with baked chicken, slathered with salt and rosemary, bread crumbs and nuts stuffed inside. Harry was the one who insisted on the salt, saying it would bake into a flavorful skin, soaking into the meat and really bringing out the flavor.

Snape had cocked an eyebrow at him, but unlike the past, he'd done what Harry suggested. At the result he'd said, "Quite passable, Harry," and Harry'd grinned for a good five minutes at the praise.

Snape now dressed in trousers and short sleeved shirts, his bite scar a pale ridge across his neck and the Dark Mark leering at Harry, but Harry overlooked that tattoo with casual ease. It meant nothing, not when Snape had loved Harry's mother; not when he took care of them both.

Sometimes, Snape would even smile.

And as he sat under the bright afternoon sun, only a light jacket he'd Transfigured with Snape's wand to ward against the brief but chilled wind, munching on a chicken breast and fresh carrots, he realized he felt content.

He'd been perched away from the others on his favorite rock facing the lake. Some mallards were puddling, tail ends turned up as they stirred up a feast. Behind him, he heard Draco chuckle. He turned and looked over at his two companions. They were leaning close, faces turned towards each other discussing something. Once in a while Draco would throw his head back and laugh and even Snape's perpetual scowl lightened; he looked like a man at peace.

Draco caught Harry's eyes and smiled and Snape, noticing Draco's action, looked up and nodded. Harry waved and turned back to the lake. Snape and Draco had grown closer after Harry's talk with him, but so had Harry with the older man in his own way. Sometimes he wondered if Snape could, or would, give Draco wanted in the sexual portion of their lives. He knew he could only give Draco so much, and he wanted Draco to have everything. He deserved everything.

In this cage of safety, he realized he had so little to worry about; it was all so miniscule in the grand scheme of things. He was so fucking happy just be alive.

He jumped to his feet and tossed off his jacket. Then he lifted the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing his head to get his hair out of his eyes.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

He twisted at the waist and laughed at the two, staring at him on confusion. "I'm going for a dip!"

He grabbed for the button on his jeans.

"Harry, I do not have proper ingredients to infuse a warming potion. Potter! Put your pants back on!" Snape shouted and Draco laughed as Harry ran down to the lake buck naked, jumping over rocks on the path and then ending in a painful splash.

"Damn! Cold!" he screeched as he popped back up to the surface. The mallards set to the air, flying away in annoyance.

"Well, what did you expect?" Draco yelled over at him.

Harry dunked himself again and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He kept moving his arms and legs under the water, trying to acclimate to the cold.

"Not glacial temperatures!" he called back.

It was cold, but he felt cleaned by the temperature, somehow purified. He began swimming to the opposite side. Soon, he was no longer on the verge of hypothermia and the calm surface before him as he transversed the lake sparkled in the sun's light, little diamonds, like little fairies celebrating the joy of life.

**Fifteen days until: **

Their food supplies were so diminished that Snape began planning to leave their home to gather more. Harry wanted to tell him no, that he couldn't leave, he could get caught or someone could find them or any number of other excuses but he stopped himself. They had to eat.

That afternoon he'd taken Snape's wand and Transfigured a stick into a fishing pole. He'd seen fishing shows on the television at the Dursley's house; it couldn't be that hard. He dug up worms and impaled the wriggling things on a hook and tossed out his line.

He'd begun in the morning and it was now past high noon and his stomach rumbled as he waited for a stupid bite. He pulled out the hook for the hundredth time and saw his worm was missing. Again.

"Damn fish!" he yelled. "Quit stealing my worm, already." He tossed out his line again, this time from a large boulder and watched as fish came up to his hook and sucked off the worm. "Fuckers," he cursed.

Then he slapped his hand to his head. Lifting Snape's wand he cried, "_Accio Fish_," and one wriggling trout came flying up through the water into his palm. It flipped and beat him with his tail, expertly slipping from his grip and landing back into the water to tell his horrid tale to the next generation of fingerlings.

Harry jumped off the boulder and moved to stand over the marshy ground when he cast the spell again. This time the fish had nowhere to go when it slipped from his grip. He caught two more, pleased, and returned to the cabin excited to show them his catch. The lilac bush beside the door had tiny buds scattered all over it and he couldn't wait for it to burst into full bloom. The sun shone. It was a beautiful day.

He opened the door, fish floating behind him, and saw Snape and Draco entwined on the couch. Snape's long fingers were threaded through Draco's hair and Draco's head was thrown back as the older man licked along his chest.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. The fish dropped to the ground with a wet slap.

Snape turned his head towards Harry and Draco looked up confused. They both went stiff; Snape's face revealed nothing, but Draco, Harry noticed, looked hopeful. He wondered if they'd planned this.

He didn't know what to do. Should he leave? He wouldn't mind staying to watch, but that might make them uncomfortable.

"Harry," Snape finally said.

"Yes," he replied. It was a very stupid conversation considering the circumstances.

"Would you like to join us?"

His entire body froze at the invitation. Draco smiled, that seductive smile with his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen from kissing. He was fucking gorgeous and Harry dumbly nodded at Snape.

Snape held out his hand. "Come here then."

**Seven days until: **

Their intimate play together became a common occurrence.

Following a sparse meal they were in the living room with Snape sitting on the couch. Draco stood by the fire as Snape looked him up and down, an appraising look that made the blond squirm. His shirt was balled on the floor; his trousers hung low on his hips. Harry was sitting on a kitchen chair next to the couch where Snape sat, observing everything closely: Snape's eyes, Draco's reactions, the tension in the air making everything crisp.

He'd discovered he really liked watching.

"Drop your trousers, Draco," Snape said, his voice low and Harry realized, very sexy. He looked sharply at Snape, really examined him. His nose was long, his teeth yellowed and crooked. His hair was lank and his cheekbones far too sharp. But his eyes, when not full of disdain were full of a power that could engulf you and Harry finally saw him as a desirable man. He gasped softly in surprise.

While Harry was examining Snape, his eyes and the long scar coming up his chest, Draco had been busy with his trousers, which were now resting at his ankles, his long erection packed within the cotton of his pants. He looked nervous, anticipatory, excited.

Draco looked over at Harry, his eyes bright and then looked back at Snape, ready.

"Everything, Draco," Snape said, and Harry could see Draco shiver, a full-bodied wriggle and his eyes practically rolled back. In the next breath he hooked his fingers around the band of his underwear and tugged them down. His cock sprang forth.

"I see," Snape hissed. "So eager." Draco nodded. "Come here, lay across my lap." With wide eyes, Draco shuffled towards Snape, his trousers impeding his progress, preparing to lay down facing Harry.

"No," Snape said, right before Draco laid himself down. "The other way." Draco looked up at Harry, their eyes piercing each other, trying to swallow the heat from the other. He straightened and moved to the other side, lying down across Snape's lap with his arse facing Harry. His head was cradled over his crossed arms where they rested on a couch cushion.

Snape drew out his wand. Harry watched avidly as he placed the tip of his wand on the top of Draco's head and dragged it down along his spine all the way to his protruding tail bone. Then he tapped.

Draco gasped and trembled. Bobbing between his legs, Harry could see his full cock. Something in Harry stirred and he pressed his hand against his own dick, unmoving, but not lifeless. His balls ached.

Then Snape lifted his wand with maximum finesse, "_Accio Oil_. " The jar of cooking oil came flying through the air to land gently in his palm. He set aside his wand, unstoppered the oil and dabbed a bit onto his forefinger. He rubbed them together and _hmmed_ to himself. "A tad too grainy, but it will have to do," he mused.

Then he lifted the oil and began pouring a thin stream over Draco's skin; a tiny river of the yellow tinted substance pooled in the arch of his back and then Snape brought the bottle back and dribbled it over one butt cheek then the other and finally all over Draco's crack. Then Snape reached down and opened Draco's cheeks, pouring more and more of the slick stuff over his anus.

"Merlin, Severus," Draco groaned out, gripping the cushion like a life raft. Like a rocking horse, his cock bobbed up and down, up and down.

Harry's heart beat hard as he watched the slick oil sliding over Draco's skin, Draco's pucker pulsing at the contact. Harry let loose an awed, "Oh."

Snape banished the bottle and his hard eyes captured Harry's. "Harry," he said, "Come closer."

Harry sprang from his chair and pulled it closer. He was sitting right by Draco's upturned arse, his tiny entrance right where Harry could see it. He found he couldn't look away. It was so pink. How could a dick really get up there? It seemed preposterous, though he had first hand experience it was possible and something in him wanted to try. Someday.

Harry reached out to the dip of Draco's back and pressed all five fingers into the pool of oil. The prone man twitched.

"What?" he said, his voice completely breathless and the question completely pointless.

"Draco?" Harry asked, questioning as he ran his fingers in a figure eight over his soft skin, coating them with the oil. He drew the eight wider and wide, encompassing each half of his arse. "This okay?"

"Yes, Harry. Oh, yes, yesyes." Draco pressed his arse back at Harry, then thrust forward experimentally and groaned.

"Draco. Do not move," Snape commanded. _Commanded_. And Harry looked up at Snape again as Draco stilled his movements. The man's face was firm, but Harry could see that he was smiling in his own way. He could see a flush to his cheeks and their eyes met and Snape nodded.

Not exactly sure what he was doing Harry ran his finger from the protuberance of Draco's tail bone down the crack between this arse-cheeks and then right to that tight pucker that pulsed and throbbed under his touch.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco groaned out, his body hummed with tension but he didn't thrust like he had before.

The feel of it was marvelous. Harry circled it, feeling the muscles jump and play under his finger. He was doing that, he was making Draco groan and twitch and beg.

"Please, Harry. In me. Please, Oh Fucking Merlin, Please." Each word a drawn out tune of pleasure and Harry couldn't even think of not doing what Draco asked.

He pressed in and Draco groaned out and as Harry's world faded to that one point, that one connection between them, Snape reached down and attended to him in his own way. Frantically, Draco's orgasm hit. It lasted forever.

As Draco finally slumped bonelessly over Snape's legs, Harry pulled his fingers out, surreptitiously wiping them on his pants. Draco moaned low and Snape leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"Hmm, Severus, Harry, thank you." He lifted his arms and pressed himself up off of Snape's lap, staring at the grey mess he left all over the man's dark pants.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"It certainly is not a problem, Draco," Snape said, then cast a Cleaning Charm on them both. Draco tugged up his pants and trousers, and then slumped onto the couch next to Severus. He practically glowed with a contented half-smile.

Harry watched in awe. He watched Draco smile and lean up against Snape, kissing the man. He could see the dance of their tongues and he looked down to the shape of Snape's erection as it remained, untouched, in his trousers.

"Severus," Harry asked guilelessly, "What about you?"

Draco's long lashes lifted as he opened his eyes. "Severus?" he asked. He looked down to Snape's crotch. Snape looked down, too. "Oh!" Draco said.

"Do not feel obliged…" Severus began gruffly, but Draco cut him off with a wicked chuckle.

"Oh no, sir," he said seductively as he slid his body to the floor and walked on his knees to stop before Snape's legs. "This isn't an obligation." He reached up, placing one hand on each of Snape's knees and gently pushed them apart.

Harry just watched. He wanted to do more, but he couldn't tear his eyes away as Draco took Snape in his mouth.

Snape groaned low, an animalistic tone of need and Harry pulled his eyes away to look up at his ex-Professor. His head was thrown back and his back was bent deep. He was gripping Draco's hair as he began to tilt his hips sharply.

It was so incredible. It was unimaginable.

Harry reached out, no longer appeased with watching, and brushed Snape's hair with his fingers, then ran the tips along his skin. With his other hand he pressed lightly against the back of Draco's head as it rose and fell. And in this gentle touch, he felt a part of it.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue up Snape's straining neck, up to his ear where he bit sharply on the lobe. The man tasted clean with a slight tinge of sweat and Harry began sucking rhythmically to Draco's bobbing head.

With a low sigh, Snape's body grew rigid and he cried out. Draco coughed and pulled away, getting sprayed over his face as Snape continued to pulse and gush in the longest orgasm Harry'd ever seen. Finally, with one last twitch, Snape fell back against the couch in a heap, sighing heavily.

"Hmm. I must say, it's been a while," Snape confessed and he opened his black eyes and smiled at them both. Harry couldn't resist, he kissed him softly on the lips. Snape hummed in pleasure.

"And you, Harry? Are you…?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, though," Harry said, delighted that Snape asked and also surprised that his own lack of participation didn't make him feel left out. Snape cleaned them up, then tucked himself away as Harry squirmed closer to his right side and Draco crawled up on the couch to his other. They sat together, watching the fire crackle and pop, listening to their combined breaths, combined beats of their hearts.

That night they all slept in Snape's room. They'd enlarged the bed and Draco forcibly chose the middle, though Harry wasn't about to argue with him for it. It dawned on him that being in bed with two of his adversaries might be strange, however, the most striking thing was that he hadn't felt this safe in as long as he could remember.

**Six days to two days until: **

These were the happiest moments of Harry's life. And he wished he could hide away with Draco and Snape until the end of all days.

**One day until: **

Snape insisted it was necessary. They all watched as a charmed sparrow fluttered off with a message to Arthur Weasley. Harry watched it with a kind of obscene fear, its tiny little wings flapping at a hundred beats per second, taking a message to the world out there. But they were almost out of food and Snape had always told him that they couldn't stay hidden forever.

"Harry, Draco. We may remain here indefinitely, however we do need supplies and perhaps they can even send wands." Harry didn't think Snape sounded so sure.

He turned and wrapped a comforting arm around each of them and turned around to face the cottage. It had become home to Harry, perhaps even replacing Hogwarts in his heart. The thatched roof, the light blue paint, the beautiful lake in the distance. He'd felt safe here and he wasn't ready to leave it.

**That day: **

A soft movement to his side roused him from a fleeting dream of flying and snidgets and his opened eyes revealed Draco straddling atop Snape. A thin sheet covered them both as they rocked like a ship at sea, eyes half closed, expressions a mixture of calm delight and fiery pleasure; like a storm building then blowing away, then building once more. Eventually, Draco noticed Harry and smiled at him.

"Do you want to join us?" Draco always offered. Snape ceased his offers, but Harry sensed that didn't mean the offer had been rescinded. At the thought of joining them his cock actually warmed up to the idea, though it still didn't rise like he'd hoped.

He nodded and rose to his knees beside Draco and pulled off the sheet. It fluttered as it slid off their swaying forms. As Draco rocked himself on Snape's erection, Harry lined Draco's shoulder with kisses and took quick tastes, reaching around to grab his untended cock to give it a few steady strokes.

"Ooh, Harry." Harry's name sounded like a benediction on Draco's lips and he felt powerful and cherished.

He shifted to lie down along side Snape and he ran his fingers across the man's chest, avoiding the livid scar tissue, white and twisted. Snape _hmmed_ at the touch and Harry felt drawn to run his tongue along the outer edge of Snape's ear. He discovered the man had a thing for ear bites. Snape grunted in anticipation as his rocking sped up.

Harry waited, by now he knew the signs when each of them would orgasm, and as Snape began to go quiet, his actions twitchy and more sporadic, Harry bit down on the lobe and sucked hard.

"Gah!" Snape cried out as he gripped Draco's hips and pumped into him. Time was stretched thin and Harry lightly licked at the bite, easing the sting.

"I survived serving the Dark Lord, but it just might be the two of you who are the death of me," he managed to say as he pumped Draco's cock faster and faster. Harry looked up from Snape's neck, half buried in his hair as the tendons and veins in Draco's neck bulged out, his mouth opened in a silent scream of release. White streams of pearls pumped out of the head of his cock, all over Snape's chest. When he was finished, he let out the longest, most sultry sigh that Harry'd ever heard.

Harry propped himself up on one hand and leaned over Snape's chest and began lapping up Draco's semen. Snape groaned again and Harry giggled. It was bitter, but for some reason he loved it. Almost as much as he secretly loved them.

They lounged in bed for the better part of the morning until Snape roused them, saying they couldn't be laz-abouts all day and they got up and each took his shower.

Harry practiced with Snape's wand and Draco took his share as well. The place was always spotless. Even with non-stop sex they still had many hours in the day to kill.

"Do you realize," Draco said as they ate lunch, some sort of stew from root vegetables Snape had found growing by the boggy end of the lake, "that today is Beltane. The veil between the worlds is thin."

"What?" Harry asked; he'd long ago forgotten to take note of the passage of days. "Really? Should we do something? To celebrate?"

"Jump over a fire?" Draco suggested.

"Beltane is a fertility ritual, you know," Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh well, we've already celebrated then," Harry said and then burst out in laughter with Draco following. It amazed him to realize that it'd been six months since he had been caught by those Death Eaters, since he'd wished for death; and now he hoped things would never changed.

Suddenly, he became crisply aware that nothing ever stayed the same.

* * *

"Rummy!" Draco cried out and laid his cards down with a smug grin. Harry threw his at the stupid git's head. He was pants at the game.

He got up and threw himself on the couch staring into the flames. "Sometimes I wish we had a telly," Harry whined.

The other two looked at him, cards forgotten. Then Draco cleared his throat. "When we leave, wherever we end up, we can get you that Muggle waste of time."

Harry twisted to look back over at the other two where they sat at the dining table. "But, I don't want to leave," he whined some more.

"Harry," Snape began, but Draco interrupted him.

"Come on, even I know we can't stay here forever," he began jovially. "Say we get some food sent our way in the next few days, we still can't keep hiding here. There is a world out there and yes, I'm not quite ready to return either, but eventually we need to. You're already getting squirrelly being stuck here. I think," he looked over at Snape then back to Harry, "I think that we should move on soon, help with the war, so that…" he swallowed and examined his hands twisted in his lap, "so that what happened to us, doesn't happen to anyone else."

Snape reached out and covered Draco's hands with his own. Harry laughed weakly. "When did you get all mature and stuff on me?" Silence moved amongst them.

Finally, Snape stood. "Get up, brats. Let's go outside."

The three of them left their cottage and began their walk around the lake. The early evening was pleasant and a flock of large white birds flew overhead. More and more wildflowers colored the field in yellows, whites and purples; one wild rosebush grew in an untamed mess on the north end. Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's hand, who then grabbed Snape's and they strolled in silence, each thinking about what would happen once they left their sanctuary.

They reached the little hillock and sat on it, Harry perched on his rock, and they watched as Beltane slowly burned away, the sun long past its peak in the sky. The thing about not having a wand, or the telly, or even many books, it created a lot of time to think. And Harry realized, Draco was right, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't keep hidden away.

"I'm going to get some fruit," Draco said. "Any requests?"

"An apple, please," Snape said while Harry piped in, "Pear."

Draco left them for the cabin in the quiet of the early evening.

"He's right," Harry admitted. "I guess we'll have to leave this place."

"Yes, Harry. But we do not have to leave now." Harry nodded at Snape's reassurance, but then both men were startled by the cracking sound of Apparition echoing from inside the forest.

"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. Snape rose too and they looked towards the noise. _Maybe it was Arthur Weasley_, he wondered. He hoped.

But it wasn't Arthur, or Kingsley, or anyone else he would have been happy to see.

"How'd they find us?" Harry screeched, body frozen. His eyes had gone blind to everything, focused only on Rowle barking orders to a few other people as they emerged from the edge of the forest. His tormentor and his torment, vivid and all encompassing.

"They can't see us unless they break the wards. Let's get back inside," Snape said calmly. Harry barely heard him through the base drum beating of his heart, the banging of his blood as it rushed through his ears. "Get inside now!" he repeated, this time with all the authority he ever held and it slapped Harry out of his stupor.

The intruders began repeating a spell over and over.

He burst through the door with Snape on his heels, babbling about Rowle and the others with him.

"Fucking fuck!" Draco cursed as he paced through the living area, his fingers twitching as he seemed to be plotting and strategizing some option, some plan. Harry knew he was scared, fuck, they were all scared, but he also knew that he could rely on Draco and Snape. They would protect him and he would protect them as well. If only they each had a wand. Harry glanced longingly at Snape's gripped firmly in the man's hand then turned to look at the box on the mantle.

"You two stay in here," Snape said, pressing the words through his torn throat with force, pinning them down with his gaze as if he could will obedience into them. "I will draw their fire; give you a chance to get into the forest and escape."

Harry's stomach fell away. "No! We are not leaving you, Severus. Don't even fucking…"

"Potter," Snape said and Harry shut his mouth, upset. "I have sent an emergency beacon to Arthur Weasley. Soon he will arrive and I will have aid. He knows that if he receives the beacon that something of dire concern has happened and that he should bring support immediately. As it is," his voice softened and he reached out to touch the side of Harry's face, then Draco's, "I've lived my life. You need this chance to live yours. Watch out for each other and stay together."

Harry looked over at Draco, whose eyes were wide trying to hold back tears. "I'll watch out for Draco, sir," Harry said. Then he threw himself at the man, kissing him full on the lips. "But please, try to not die. Please, come and find us. _Please_." He begged and begged and he felt Draco wrap his arms behind him and they clung onto Snape until he finally pushed them both away.

"Time has run short. I'll go out the front and you leave through the back window. Take Greyback's wand, it might be of use."

They nodded and he turned his back on them going for the door. Then, which jarring awareness, they felt the magic of the place shatter. The Death Eaters had broken through the wards. Harry snatched up the box and took out the useless wand, then turned to Draco and grabbed his hand. "Let's go." Draco nodded, his jaw flexing under his strained self-control.

They ran to the window right as they heard Snape throw open the door and cast his first Killing Curse. Harry pushed up the windowpane and then offered Draco his cupped hands. His shoe dug into Harry's palms and he easily lifted the lighter man, who tumbled through the window onto the ground outside. Harry leaped up and struggled through the window as explosions and screams from behind pulled at the frayed edges of his attention.

He landed with a thump to the ground, biting back a cry as he twisted his ankle and scrambled to his feet, ready to run with Draco. He hated abandoning Snape, hated it with every fiber of his being. What kind of a man would leave a friend like that… a friend and so much more? A sob bubbled through his panting breath.

"Hey there, boys," said a man Harry didn't recognize. His wand was trained right at Draco's heart, who stood with his hands raised, looking over at Harry fearful yet determined.

Harry thrust out Greyback's wand, attempting a stunner that completely fizzled and was punched soundly across his jaw. When would Arthur get there? _Oh God_, Harry's mind rattled off prayer after curse, demanding why exactly these things had to happen to him and the ones he loved.

Draco helped him back to his feet where he'd fallen under the assault. They stood next to each other, looking at the grinning man. Harry squeezed Draco's hand, quick—once, twice then sharply pushed his hand away.

Draco, taking the hint, dodged to the left as Harry lunged for their assailant, tackling him as his attention was drawn towards Draco's escape.

They struggled, rolling over the thick grass, but Harry had always been frightfully wiry and had ended up straddling his opponent. He curled his fingers into a fist and began pounding in his face. He punched him for his dead parents, he punched him for Voldemort, he punched him for every fucking rape he'd endured, and he now punched him for every time his heart stopped beating in fear and as he continued to bloody the man's face, breaking delicate facial bones, his tears fell freely and he screamed in frustration.

"Fucking leave us alone!" he yelled, pulled back his fist once more, but it was stalled by strong fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Harry, stop. He's not moving anymore," Draco said, his voice oddly dull and flat. Harry relaxed his fingers; they ached he'd gripped them so hard, they ached with torn skin. He looked away from the mangled face of an unnamed ex-Death Eater up to another ex-Death Eater who meant so very much.

"We have to go," he said and Harry nodded. They did have to go. He had to get up right now. He had to get up and walk away and leave Severus behind. He had to survive and leave Severus behind.

"No," he finally said. "We have to go back for him."

Draco's shoulders relaxed and he released a sigh. "Damn right, Potter. Let's get moving." Harry grabbed the useless wand and tucked it into his waistband and then grabbed his opponent's wand and tossed it to Draco. Desperately he tried to scrub the gore off his hands onto his jeans as they pressed themselves to the wall of the house.

"I wish I hadn't yelled so much," Harry whispered and Draco shrugged.

"What's done is done. Let's go help him." Draco held out the wand, it was short and stiff and he looked dubiously at it. It wasn't hopeful, but it was better than nothing. Together they slid around the corner, Draco going first, to where they heard someone laughing and Severus' hoarse scream.

"Shit!" Draco ground the word out from between his clenched teeth. Quick as a snake, he peeked around the corner to the front of their cottage.

"What? What did you see?" Harry asked, urgency pressing him against Draco, closer to the edge so he could see, too.

"Stop, you'll push me out there," Draco said with a swat to Harry's head. "They've got Severus. Three of them surrounding him. Another down." He took a deep breath. "Rowle is there."

Harry nodded. "We need to get them off Severus. You take one; I'll take the other… Disarm them if you can, kill them if you must." Even after killing Voldemort, he still didn't like the idea of killing, even the man who'd abused him in the worst fashion. He wished he still had his cloak. "Maybe we can climb on the roof and jump on them?" he suggested.

Draco glanced up to the rim of the thatched roof. "Doubt it, we'd probably fall through."

He snorted, frustrated. "Fine."

"I'll take the far one, I'm faster than you," Draco whispered with a twist to his lips. Harry almost chuckled, would have if it weren't for the panic threatening to choke him dead. They looked at each other, then Draco nodded and they burst from the corner of the house.

It wasn't far, maybe twenty meters and Draco flicked a weak curse at his target even as he flew through the air, launching himself at the slight woman. He hit about the same time Harry rolled into the legs of the one closest, not even bothering using the wand he had. The Cruciatus Curse was cut short as more vitriolic cursing filled the air.

The man Harry had tripped to the ground rolled over on top of him pressing his wand against Harry's temple. Scrambling, Harry grabbed a rock from the dirt and with all his might he shifted his weight and slammed the fist-sized stone into the side of the man's head. Shock and adrenalin warred within him as the man fell on top of him like a bolt of cloth.

Screams and the definite sounds of a fight came from behind Harry but he couldn't see a thing. He knew Draco was out there alone, even Snape in full bastard mode couldn't recover that quickly; he couldn't stomach the idea of leaving Draco to face Rowle without him there. He twisted left and right, squirming out from under the dead weight but as he reached for this man's fallen wand, something hard hit him from behind, knocking him over.

Instinctively, he rolled away trying to put distance between him and the fight so he could get to his feet. He rolled to a squat and quickly leap-frogged to the left as a green flash sailed his direction.

The dainty woman was slamming her heel into Snape's side where he was curled up tightly and Rowle was leaning over Draco, who was sprawled across the man Harry'd brained. The bastard leered at Draco, _leered_ at him, and Harry wouldn't put up with that. He said he would protect Draco with his last breath.

"Hey, you fucker!" Harry cried out, pointing Greyback's wand at Rowle. "Leave him alone!"

Rowle turned to look at Harry, positioning himself at an angle to take in both of his ex-prisoners, his wand steady on Draco. "Oh, look at you now. Savior have a bit of spit and vinegar, eh?" He flicked his wand and Draco fell to his knees, eyes wide and mouth twisted in fear, but he didn't run. He didn't do anything.

"Get up Draco! Fight it!" Harry screamed at him. The loose wand of the brained man was resting only five feet away. Five measly feet. Harry could dodge for it, grab it, kill fucking Rowle. No, _Crucio_ the fucker until he stopped writhing to puke up his guts, literally. The man needed to pay, to fucking pay.

Harry dove for the wand.

His fingers wrapped around it and he rolled to his side, the ground where he rested seconds before was scorched black by a hex. He lifted the wand and screamed the Curse of Pain at Rowle, all of the energy and hatred and fear washing out through his arm into the wand and a ray of bright light flooded the man.

Rowle fell to the ground, gone stiff in a rictus of pain. Harry was so focused on flooding the man with his own anguish that he didn't noticed that Draco still did not move. He didn't notice the woman walking towards him. He didn't notice her wand, directed right at him.

"_Crucio!_ " she screamed, and it was Harry's turn to drown in the torture of the Unforgivable.

But the curse didn't last long and he fell to the floor in a boneless lump, panting to catch his breath. A headache was building and he couldn't look at the sky, the dim evening was just too bright.

"You will not touch them, Fortier," Snape snarled, and Harry could hear the fight, the exchange of spells as he struggled to get up, to gain his bearings, because if he was recovering, surely Rowle was, too.

"Harry!" Snape hissed at him, and Harry opened his eyes a crack. Snape was standing by his side, his arm held out. "Take my hand. Do not release it." He sent another curse, a red blaze that burned a path at the woman, who returned the favor in full measure. The hex veered off and caught the edge of their cabin, the thatch catching like an inferno from the power of the curse. "Grab Draco," he gritted out between spells. "Now!" His attention was on battling his foe, not on Rowle pushing himself from the ground, not on Draco's stiff body.

Harry turned and reached out for Draco even as Rowle brought his wand pointing towards Snape. He reached for all he was worth, pulling against Snape's untiring grip; he stretched his arm and would have dislocated his shoulder if he could, but he couldn't make it, his reach came too short. Rowle incanted something, words and phrases that Harry couldn't quite hear. A flash of light and Snape shouted, yelled at Harry to get Draco, then began to cast some intricate spell even as the two Death Eaters were bringing down unknown nightmares upon them. With desperation he screamed out, "Draco!" but then his stomach roiled, everything shifted and he felt like he was hanging from the ceiling. Then an odd wrenching sensation like sinking into the earth. He lost solidity when a flash of light sailing through the air from Rowle encased them. Then Harry saw shadowy figures burst from the forest beyond the burning cabin. There was one man, then another… and a woman with bushy hair. Was that Arthur?

But he reached and reached and Draco looked over at him trapped in a pertification curse, unable to reach back, only able to scream his goodbye with his eyes as Harry slowly slipped from existence.

It was Beltane and his existence was burning.

* * *

When he was a kid he used to remember his Uncle watching old re-runs of this science fiction show called Star Trek. They had this platform where people could be Apparated from one spot to another, though they had this odd staticy appearance for a while. They called it Beaming, and that is exactly what Harry thought was happening to him right now.

Everything went soft, then thin, then it was all a world of static and noise. He could still feel Snape's solid grip on his arm but he couldn't seem to move. He was frozen in a hopeless lunge for Draco; Draco, who'd gotten left behind.

His lungs ached, his heart felt crushed, a flattened organ unwilling to pump blood. He wanted to scream and wail, but he couldn't do a thing.

Finally, the world grew more and more solid, clear. It was still their valley, with the lake and the forest. He saw the cabin, neat and whole and uncharred in any way. There was no Rowle, no limp body bleeding from the head. There were no heroes running from the forest and there wasn't any Draco waiting for him. Draco was gone.

Then something clicked, slid sideways just slightly and Harry could move again and his entire body went limp from the strain; Snape let his hand lose.

From behind him Harry could hear, "No. Damn, no." Harry turned and looked at Snape, eyes full of pain, a downward quiver of a lip. He turned back and looked at the spot where Draco was not standing. He knew exactly how the older man felt.

"What's happened?" he asked, his voice sounding like it came from outside of him. "What spell did you cast?"

Snape swallowed slowly and scanned the area, his wand still held in a fighting grip. Finally, he glanced at Harry. "I moved us, Harry. It was a Sanctuary Spell. I moved us out of harm."

"How? What spell? Where did everyone go?"

"They didn't go, we did. And I'm afraid—" Snape's shoulders slumped and his wand arm fell lifelessly to his side. A breeze kicked up and lifted his long hair. It didn't seem as lank to Harry as it once had and he wondered if the hair had changed or he did.

Snape lifted his wand and began pacing around the pristine ground. There was no sign of a battle; the cabin had never been aflame. Finally he circumnavigated the grounds, his face warped in fury.

"That bastard Rowle. He sabotaged my spell. My Sanctuary Spell was compromised. We should have been moved to a pocket of safety until I ended the spell. This is an entirely different world," he growled, stomping around the perimeter of their cottage once more, vicious detection charms hurled out into the air.

"What do you mean?" Harry called after him.

"It means that we are not in our own dimension and that I'm not entirely sure how to return us."

Time stalled. Harry's heart stalled. His _mind_ stalled and everything, everything that mattered came to a screeching halt.

"We aren't in our own dimension?" he asked weakly. Suddenly his mouth filled with the metallic taste of bile. How would they ever get home? Get back to Draco? In a wash of disbelief he sought out the flames, he scanned for his enemies, and finally he fell to his knees, sobbing over a future that might forever be lost.

_Draco_.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART II**

**One day following: **

The feel of soft cotton against his skin. The scent of early lilacs hinted on the breeze. The rustle of the drapes. Raw itchiness in his eyes and an immediate clenching of his heart. Those were the first things he noticed when he awoke on that day. The day after: when they'd lost Draco.

The second thing was that he was alone.

Like a man trying to fill a sudden void, Harry spread out his arms and legs, moving them in searching arcs over the bed. The sheets weakly held onto Severus' warmth; he couldn't have been gone long. Harry wondered why he'd left without waking him. Harry wondered if Severus blamed him.

He knew he blamed himself.

Lying motionless, he stared up at the ceiling. The same exact ceiling he'd been looking at for the past few weeks, here in Severus' room. The same exact ceiling as the one in that other world, exactly the same but so fucking empty and hollow without Draco.

He wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed. He felt small and needy.

Finally, with too much effort, he threw back the duvet and climbed out of bed. Outside the small window he could see the sky, blue and forever endless. The edge of the world. A small flock of songbirds darted by, chittering in the warm spring morning, flitting about a bush that rustled in the slight wind.

It was a beautiful day.

He turned around and climbed back into bed.

**Two days following: **

He hadn't slept much the previous day. He kept remembering Draco's laugh, his scent that still lingered on his clothes, but mostly, he remembered his touch, those kisses.

Snape had climbed into bed late, saying nothing to Harry, who'd said nothing back. Snape must hate him. That couldn't be blamed, really. He understood. Then the sun had barely breached the edge of the earth and he'd climbed out of bed, leaving Harry there, alone. So terribly alone.

He thought about getting out of bed, of doing something productive with his day, catching a fish or cleaning the fireplace. But then none of those projects sounded good.

Today just didn't look good all around.

**Three days following: **

His mouth tasted like plaster and week old bologna. When he opened his eyes, he noticed Severus wasn't there and the bed was cold.

He lay there staring up at the ceiling. A sharp pain in his bladder urged him out of bed. It'd been the only reason he'd risen over the last three days and he finally noticed his stomach's rumble. He threw back the covers and caught a whiff of his body odor, stale and sweet, and he could just hear Draco scolding him on poor personal hygiene. "Harry," he would say, "Though I understand your childhood left you with the social skills of a wild boar, I certainly hope I had more of a taming influence on you. Go wash."

Humorlessly, Harry chuckled to himself, and then left to relieve his bladder.

He stood there before the toilet, urinating for an astonishingly long time, letting his mind race over his last six months with Draco. His last four months with Severus.

Suddenly, a heavy force settled in his chest like the dead weight of past mistakes.

Severus.

He wished Severus would announce breakfast, call out to him, but it seemed he, too, had abandoned familiar routine and Harry had a crushing need to be with him.

He brushed his teeth and showered in record time and then entered the main room of the cabin. Severus was sitting at the table staring into a mug that looked full and tepid. His hair hung limp, framing his face as his gaze swam in the dark tea. He looked lost; he looked like he was searching for something. A forlorn crow seeking answers in a sea of questions.

"Severus?" Harry said, keeping his voice quiet in the utter stillness of the room.

In drawn out lassitude the man lifted his face and looked at Harry. His eyes were haunted: huge and drawn together and brimming with loss. Then he blinked and it was dashed away to a dim memory, a ghost of something that could never be.

"I see you've finally grown sick of your own stink."

Harry nodded.

"Did you wish for something to eat?"

He shrugged. "I'll make it," he offered, walking towards the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and saw that it was stuffed with food: dried, fresh and preserved. "But… There's a full larder here."

"Yes, I am aware." Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Severus lift the cup to his lips, take a half hearted sip and then flinch, setting the cup back down.

He stared at the cupboard as Severus stared as his cup.

"Severus…" Harry began again, tentative, afraid. Afraid of what, he wasn't sure. Afraid Severus would yell at him, accuse him of losing Draco. Afraid that he would blow up, throw the mug and paint the room in cold black tea. Afraid that Severus would sit there, quiet, and ignore Harry, making him keenly aware of just how alone he was in this displaced sliver of existence.

"Yes?"

Harry exhaled in relief; and then realized he didn't know what to say. He crossed the room and sank into the chair across the table from Severus. They looked at each other. One pair of dark eyes gripping those of green.

"I'm sorry," Harry said and Severus frowned.

"You've nothing for which to apologize."

"I… I couldn't reach… I couldn't—" Shocked, he could feel tears building.

"Harry, stop this. It was not your fault. The spell—I cast it too soon…"

"I'm sure he's okay. Hermione, and Arthur, I saw them…"

"I left him behind…"

Harry reached out his hand and laid it on the table halfway between. "No. I couldn't reach." A fat teardrop splattered against the tabletop. "I tried, but I couldn't reach." He'd let them down, both of them. _He'd_ lost Draco.

A cool hand settled on top of his own and he became mesmerized by the hands. One pale, one tanned, one set of long, stained fingers, one set shorter, decorated with scrapes and old scabs, together resting on the table. He looked up into Severus' eyes again and they sat together, in the stillness.

* * *

That night when Harry went to bed, Severus joined him, a relieved bedmate. Together they lay, side by side, hands held loosely between their bodies.

**Seven days following: **

Slowly, life returned to the two men.

As a young boy Harry'd never traveled, never gone to the park with his father and mother and played. He'd dodged bullies and hidden away from violence and neglect. He kept his tears silent while locked away in a tiny cupboard like something broken or out of season. Dumbledore had assured the skills to survive would be ingrained into his very soul.

Harry used to resent him, hated the man for leaving him at the Dursley's even as he'd once adored him, held him practically responsible for his cherished freedom at Hogwarts. Now he figured Dumbledore had done him a favor. First Voldemort, then his time with the Death Eaters, now this accidental exile. Harry was a survivor.

At least he had Severus Snape by his side.

And wasn't that a jarring thought.

* * *

"Severus, why is there all this food? Shouldn't it have been eaten?" Harry asked, categorizing the bags of legumes, boxes of crackers and cartons of preserved milk.

"Who would have eaten it?" Severus asked. He'd been hovering over a lined notepad of yellow paper all morning, periodically scripting out his thoughts and then pausing to ponder some more.

He hadn't really considered that. "Well… us."

He looked up at Harry. "Do you see anyone here other than you and me?"

"Umm, no. But certainly, this place has a you and a me. I mean, why else would this cabin be here, all stocked up. Wasn't it yours?" Harry realized he'd never really asked. So many things he'd never bothered asking about, he'd been so content in this secluded paradise.

Snape glanced back down at the charts, equations and Greek symbols covering the sheet of paper. "Perhaps. I'm uncertain," Snape said in his torn voice. "This world must be very close to our own. Even with the thinning membrane between the worlds on Beltane and Samhain, it still would have been nearly impossible to sabotage my spell if it were not a close copy. There could be a _you_ and a _me_, though I have seen neither, and it is simple to assume I of this world could have set up this cabin for such a hideaway as I did in our own dimension."

Harry mulled this over. "What happens if we meet ourselves? Isn't that some kind of paradox or something?" Would the worlds crumble in on each other if he set eyes on this world's version of himself?

Harry pulled out a chair and sat across from Snape. "We have not traveled through time, just dimensions," Snape explained. "I think we would be safe, but I've not studied this form of magic before. I need to do some study and without the proper reference materials, I believe I will get nowhere at a surprising rate." He sighed, laid down his quill, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Unfortunately, I think it imprudent to leave the wards at this point in time."

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked, his voice small. He felt so useless.

Snape looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in days. His neutral expression belied the tenderness of his voice as he said, "Harry, just be here with me." Then with a cough, he returned to his notepad and his numbers and his algebraic symbols and Harry felt warm.

* * *

With a bit of exploration Harry found this place in this dimension exactly like that of his own home, only nothing had been used. The cabin was intact, there was food aplenty, the flowers in the garden were bright and cheerful. There was no worn path to the stony outcrop that Harry liked to sit on, but he was doing his best at replacing it with his constant journeys to his sanctuary.

The cool breeze, the brilliant reflections across the surface of the lake, the honking of geese—all transient, short-lived beauty: it reminded him of life.

The wards surrounding the cottage and land remained. The forest still contained the unknown, because Harry had never ventured there. His world: it was microscopic. It was safe.

"Severus," he asked later that evening. He'd made dinner while Severus worked away on his project that they both hoped would take them home. It was his goal to help out wherever he could, understanding completely that he wouldn't be able to help with the actual magical theory. "How is it going?"

"It is… going to take some time," Snape admitted. He picked up his spoon to dip into the potato soup. A thin layer of melted cheese covered the top.

Harry nodded and slurped up some soup from his own spoon.

**Ten days following: **

The wand in his hand felt cold. It'd been over a week before he finally decided to actually pick up the dead man's wand and use it. Out in the field, when he was fighting to defend Draco and Severus, it had worked for him, blazing with curse-power and punishment. Now, in his hand, it felt like a stick of wood.

Harry swished and he flicked and he cursed the morning away, but nothing happened. He couldn't cast any magic with this wand.

He went to retrieve Snape's, sitting in the little holster by the door.

"_Lumos."_ Nothing.

"Severus!" Harry called, his voice high with panic. "Severus!" He ran outside, looking for the man.

He was sitting by the lake. Harry sprinted up to him.

"Magic. I can't," he panted, "do any magic." He leaned forward, palms against his thighs as he caught his breath. "The wands. They aren't working," he finished.

His back to Harry, Severus faced the lake. "I know."

A pause.

"What?"

Severus said nothing.

"What do you mean you know? What does it mean?" He shook Snape's wand at his back. No sparks. Nothing. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I saw no reason to set you into undue panic." Snape took in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the action.

"Undue panic!" he cried. "I can't do magic!"

"And neither can I."

The bottom of Harry's stomach plummeted. Neither of them could do magic. They could never return.

"Why?" he finally asked.

Reluctantly, Snape turned to look at him. "Apparently, though this dimension is very similar to our own, it isn't the same. There is the potential that we can learn to work magic here." His dark eyes looked dull. "I've not yet succeeded." Harry stood there shocked at the revelation. "Perhaps, this world has no magic at all."

**Twenty-four**** days following: **

For the next two weeks Harry worked every day with both Severus' and the captured wands. He tried simple spells like the Levitation Charm and more powerful spells like the Patronus Charm. He even tried the Imperious Curse on a black beetle he'd found crawling amidst the sorrel. Nothing.

"_Lumos,"_ he cast. "_Lumos!_ _"_ He shook the wand. _ "LUMOS!_ " Nothing at all.

"Severus, what are we going to do?" he whined. He was detached from a part of himself, like the strongest part of his soul had been lobotomized. He could still feel his magic inside of him, but it was trapped and all it could do was swirl and pace like a caged tiger.

"Keep trying," Snape counseled. Then he took a wand and began his own routine.

**Twenty-eight**** days following: **

Sometimes it was impossible for Harry to get out of bed. He would wake early enough, but then he would entwine himself with Severus, laying one arm across the other man's chest, nudging one leg between his two. He would run his nose up and down the soft skin of Severus' neck and breathe in his scent. Some days, that smell was his only anchor.

**Thirty**** days following: **

"Severus?" he asked. It had been another worthless day of waving a stick around. "How did you survive?"

"How so?" he asked. They had retired to bed early and were spooning with Severus nestled in behind Harry, holding onto him. Harry felt safe in Snape's arms.

"From Nagini. I saw you. I saw her bite you and… You were dead."

Snape breathed deep. "Obviously the rumors of my death—"

"—have been greatly exaggerated." Harry finished and Snape chuckled. "Yeah, I get that," Harry continued with a squeeze of the man's arms. "But you were bleeding; there was blood everywhere."

"Yes, it was rather unpleasant." Snape's breath puffed against Harry's unruly hair. "I had expected something… I knew the possibilities that the Dark Lord would kill me. He trusted no one. I had been building a tolerance to Nagini's venom for months."

"But the wound… the bleeding…" It still gave Harry the shivers. Red. The shack had been bathed in red.

"After you took my memories and left—"

Harry interrupted. "About that, I'm sorry I left you."

"Water under the bridge, Harry. You had a job to do. Anyway, I _was_ the Head of Slytherin House; I did have contingency plans." Snape stopped speaking.

"Well?" Harry urged.

Snape rasped in what Harry knew was a chuckle. "I had several potions on me at all times. Unfortunately, in my fall my bottle of Phoenix Tears shattered. However, I had a tincture of Heal-All that I drank, stemming the blood loss, though it left me with these scars." His voice rung bitter.

"Better scars than death," Harry said, rolling over to look at Severus. Slowly, he reached out and touched the scar along Severus' throat. The skin was twisted and white, a bundle of damaged tissue under his fingertips. "I'm happy you're alive."

Snape didn't move.

"And I think it makes your voice even sexier," Harry said with a shy smile.

Those dark eyes grew wide and Harry congratulated himself at shocking his old potions professor.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, "Are you chatting me up?"

Harry burst out laughing and then leaned close and kissed him.

**Thirty-five**** days following: **

One day Snape coaxed a weak light from his wand. They had been there over a month.

Harry cheered and dashed around, jumping in the air. Then he leapt into Snape's arms and kissed him soundly, holding him tight. He took his victories where he could.

**Forty**** days following: **

June blazed in their secluded valley. Even surrounded by tall fir, the forest didn't carve out enough shade to cool their cabin and Snape hadn't worked out too many spells yet.

Harry took to living in the lake.

It was a daily regime for him to swim across the small body of water, get out and sprawl upon his stone, letting the moisture evaporate from his skin, and then swim across again. He was as brown as the high grasses were turning.

"Lunch," Snape said a few feet behind Harry, who'd jumped at the sound.

"Don't sneak up on me!" he cried, his heart thudding as he glanced over his shoulder at Severus. He was wearing black trousers and a white long sleeved shirt with the cuffs rolled up. "How can you wear so much clothes?" Harry was wearing a pair of cut offs and still felt hot.

Snape lifted his wand and cast a cooling charm, full strength and perfect, over his body.

"You did it! You got the magic to work!" Harry scrambled to his feet and grinned widely at Severus from his spot on his stone. Severus' eyes crinkled at the edges and the right corner of his mouth twitched.

"Yes. I have mastered most magic in this dimension." Then he sobered. "How have you been coming along?"

"Well…"

"You have been practicing?" Snape put his hands on his hips and his smile turned into a scowl.

"A little. I can't get it. It's never worked for me." He couldn't do it. He tried. This place was dead to him… a hollowed husk.

"Stop being a lazy boy and continue to practice. You won't ever get it unless you keep trying."

Annoyance, then resignation raced through him. His shoulders slumped. "I know," he said to Severus' feet.

"Does my wand work better for you?" he asked, voice softer.

Harry looked back up. "It used to. I can't seem to get anything to work anymore. Not even a little Light Charm. I try, and I can feel my magic, but nothing happens. It's like it's all plugged up."

"You are not a clogged drain. You are a wizard. Come here." Scrambling over the rocks, Harry approached Snape. "Turn around." Harry did so and Snape wrapped his arms around him, placed his wand in Harry's right hand and then gripped his wrist.

"Now, feel the magic pulsing under your skin. Focus on it. _Feel_ it." Snape whispered against the side of Harry's head, the soft breath circling around his outer ear sending a shiver down his back. A tingle numbed his hand and he could feel Severus forcing his magic into him… Harry shivered again; his groin flashed hot even with the charm in effect. "Feel it. Now look for your own. Feel your magic and focus it to the wand."

Harry felt inward, sensing his own body and the magical currents within, looking with an odd inner surveillance. He compared everything he felt to Snape's magic and found his own--his own magic that surged through his very cells.

With every muscle pulled taut, he focused, pulled his magic into his hand, and gathered it like a beam of light, a laser of magic flooding into the wand.

_"Lumos_, " he whispered; the tip of the wand glowed the faintest bit and Harry laughed aloud.

**Forty-two days following: **

"Severus, may I touch you?"

The air was heavy, trapping the question.

Harry couldn't help remembering the sensation that coursed through him when Snape infused him with his own magic. Though he never got hard, his groin still ached. He missed Draco, missed everything about him—the good and bad. He missed his touches and kisses, and pleasing him.

He guessed Snape felt the same.

He couldn't forget it, the sizzle through his body. The whisper against his ear. Snape really did have a sexy voice.

Snape rolled over and looked at him. Side by side they were in bed, as they had been forever—since Draco had been taken from them. They hadn't done anything but share a few kisses, maybe hug each other on their bad days. Severus hadn't asked; Harry hadn't offered.

"You wish to… _touch_ me?"

"Well, if you don't want me, then never mind…" Suddenly he couldn't believe he would ask such a thing. Of course he didn't want Harry to touch him; he loved Draco, as Harry loved Draco. Draco was their center, their core, and they were peripheral.

"I would enjoy that," Severus said. Harry's gaze darted up and saw Snape's eyes had darkened. Intense. Hungry.

Suddenly, Harry felt hot all over.

He yanked his hand out from under the thin sheet and with shaking fingers caressed Severus' cheek, brushing his fingertips over the high cheekbones, down his roman nose, gently over his thin lips. As he traced those lips again, Snape opened his mouth, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

He pressed close and ghosted his lips over the man's, stoic yet yielding. His tongue dragged across the surface of his mouth and dipped inside to meet another and they danced, gently, almost shyly.

Snape wrapped up Harry with his arms and one leg, and pulled him in tight, kissing him with equal parts desire and equal parts kind acceptance. His demand was held in check, and for that Harry was grateful, but his need, his hard erection and shallow breaths, was overtly evident.

Severus was such a restrained man that it was few the times Harry'd seen him out of control. Once was during his flight from Hogwarts, yelling at Harry, telling him he wasn't a coward, that he was, in fact, the Half-Blood Prince. Another was when Draco caressed him all over, tasted him, drank him down. Harry vowed he would make Severus lose control like that again.

Harry pulled back, his eyes focused on Severus' face which revealed so much in those soft eyes and parted lips, pink and glistening from this kiss. His leaned in to kiss him again, sucking Snape's bottom lip through his teeth, nibbling, tasting, claiming as he tracked across Snape's skin: his cheeks, his eyelids, the soft skin behind his ears.

"Harry." His name was released like a sigh, set free with no reservations.

"Mmm," Harry breathed against his skin, running his tongue along Severus' neck until he reached the edge of his night shirt. His name. It was _Harry_ Snape had moaned. He slid his body over Severus', making sure to put just enough pressure on his erection to entice a groan from the man. Sitting up, he undid one button at a time, his gaze holding Severus' eyes, which were huge and eager, as his fingers did their work. Pop one button. Pop the next. Slowly, as each button was released, Harry rocked against Snape's hard cock, rubbing his groin against the prone man.

Soft growls filled the air and then Severus smiled. Just faintly, but he smiled and Harry leaned forward to capture it all with a kiss.

The room was filled with the night and the darkness was their bedmate as Harry planted kisses down Snape's thin chest, licking across each nipple—Draco liked that, maybe Severus would, too—and cataloguing each and every response. A sigh, a groan, a twitch: none of them were lost. Finally, he found himself at Snape's waistband and the soft hairs there tickled his nose.

He breathed in deep.

He loved the musky scent of a man aroused and he wondered: if he hadn't been captured and trapped with Draco would this be something he knew about himself?

He slipped his fingers under the fabric and slowly slipped the pants down past his knees and over his feet. He lay there spread out, ready for Harry's touch.

Slightly nervous he leaned over Severus' erection, heavy and proud and so full. Severus tilted his hips, just slightly, but Harry got the hint. With tenderness he rubbed first one cheek, then the other against the soft, silky skin.

"Oh Merlin… _Harry_," Snape groaned and Harry's ego swelled with excitement. .

He sucked and Snape's moan curled his toes. He was doing this. Snape was letting loose for _him_.

"Harry…" Severus groaned, whined and begged. He lifted his head and watched Harry; heated eyes burning each other in their gaze.

Harry dropped his eyes and curled his tongue and then Severus threw his head back, his face contorted in a petrified scream as his orgasm overtook him and he flooded Harry's mouth.

Severus' body went limp and Harry looked up. The man's eyes were closed and his face had adopted a relaxed mien that set Harry's heart to erratic beating. He slid up his body, pressing his unresponsive erection against Snape's side and curled up close to him.

"That was…" Snape said, then stopped and chuckled, running his hand through Harry's hair. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Harry said happily, and he nuzzled Snape's neck until they drifted off.

**Forty-seven days following: **

With regularity he copped Severus' wand and escaped to the outside with it. He would stand by the edge of his lake attempting to flood the wand with magic, his magic. Sometimes it would glow, but usually Harry just became frustrated and wanted to throw the damn thing into the depths and laugh maniacally as it sank to the bottom and rotted away with moisture and time.

His hopelessness sometimes overwhelmed him and he would remain at the lake edge into the evening, and as the sun left the day behind, he would close his eyes.

**Fifty days following: **

"Come swimming with me, Severus," Harry begged. He'd gotten sick of his own company. It was noon and Snape had been spending all his time with his notes. Harry cooked and cleaned, the Muggle way, and sometimes coaxed the wand to glow. He was fairly bored.

"I do not walk around half clothed in public," Snape assured him as he hunched over a long scroll he'd been working on.

Public? It seemed they were the only two people in existence in this tucked-away world. "Public?" Harry repeated aloud with a snort. "Who is going to see you, but me?"

"You," Snape said.

"I've already seen you naked," Harry said with a leer. His pulse sped up a bit when he thought of Snape's magic flooding his body. When he thought of his taste, his voice when his lust was awakened. "Maybe we can go skinny dipping," he egged him on.

"I would not subject the fish to that. Unlike you, I have a healthy allotment of modesty."

Thinking back to Snape's grey underpants, he wasn't all that shocked. "We could go at night," Harry offered.

"No. I'm busy. Leave me be," he said, not unkindly.

Harry snorted and plopped down next to Severus, reviewing the scroll. It was color coded with red, green and black ink. Much of the Latin was recognizable, but everything else was an amalgamation of magical systems Hogwarts had only touched on.

"What are you so busy with?" he finally asked.

"I think I might have found a way to get us back," the older man simply said.

"What?" Harry's leap to his feet was so violent the chair crashed to the floor. "You can get us back? Why didn't you say anything?"

Snape finally looked up, a glint to his eye as he noted the overturned chair. "I feared for the furniture's survival." He smirked, but then his face settled into something more kind. "Plus, I didn't want to get your hopes up. According to my calculations, we should do this spell tomorrow. The Solstice. Now go away and practice your magic. You will need to be useful."

Ignoring the jibe, Harry snatched Snape's wand and began working on spells.

**Fifty-one days following: **

June twenty-first.

He'd only waited a day, but it almost seemed a lifetime. A lifetime of twitches and vain hopes. A lifetime of checking in on Severus, hovering just on this edge of irritating. A lifetime awash with the ebb and flow of imaging his lost friend by his side, or him away, gone, trapped in another realm entirely, forever.

A lifetime of less than twenty-four hours.

"Severus," Harry whispered to the man next to him in the bed. Harry hadn't slept a wink.

Severus was silent.

Harry glanced at the wind-up clock. It was 4:37 a.m. Attempting to disturb the bed as little as possible, Harry rolled onto his side and watched Severus. His eyes, deeply shadowed with weariness, were closed; the thin skin of his eyelids looked silky and delicate. His breaths came in a deep, steady cadence.

As the sun rose, lightening the room in tiny measures, Harry watched him until Snape finally asked, "Do you plan on staring at me all morning?"

"No," Harry said. "Just until you wake up."

Severus opened his left eye and looked over at Harry. Harry grinned. Snape closed his eye with a groan.

"You are far too cheerful. Go make breakfast," Snape ordered, and with a laugh, Harry obeyed.

* * *

Snape paused for a moment, stirred five times clockwise and then dropped in the last twig of belladonna. A puff of steam circled and coiled as it floated up into the air in hues of putrid yellow and moldy gouda. The smell wasn't much better.

He ladled the potion into two large, ceramic jugs and the two men walked steadily to the bathroom together, each grasping a jug tightly in his hands.

"Now disrobe," Severus said and Harry shimmied out of his clothing; first his shirt and then his trousers, all the way to naked and then he stepped into the tub with his jug. Severus took far more time and hung his clothing on a peg and then followed Harry into the bathtub.

"Remember," Snape instructed, "Keep your mind on us returning home. Focus on home."

Harry thought of Draco. Draco and, Harry paused at the realization, Severus were all the home he ever needed.

The two men, nude with their hope bared and open, faced each other, each lifting a jug. Snape dipped his first two fingers into his jug of potion and set the jug down on the tub edge; Harry followed suit. The potion was thick and gooey and stuck to Harry's fingers like the slime from a pulverized slug. Then he thought of Draco and ignored the sensation as Snape anointed his forehead and palms with the substance.

"By Earth and Water, Fire and Air, you are released. Return to your origin. Return to your heart."

Harry brushed his fingers against Snape's brow and his upward tilted palms. "By Earth and Water, Fire and Air, you are released. Return to your origin. Return to your heart," Harry repeated over and over, and the words turned into a drone as the energy engulfed them both.

As Harry continued the chant, Snape picked up the jug and began covering Harry from head to toe, the slime slithering down his arms and legs, encasing his body in a chilly membrane that could slip within the cracks between the worlds. Harry blushed as Snape ran his hands over his penis and into the crack of his bum, and stifled a giggle as he coated the bottoms of his feet. Then it was Harry's turn and as Harry covered the taller man, he chanted and thought of home. Of where he belonged.

Fully covered with the potion, the two men grabbed each other's hands to support each other due to their slippery footing. Taking a deep breath, Snape began casting something in Greek, the words unknown yet pregnant with power as Snape wove the spell that would send them home.

An odd sensation, something like a portkey, fluttered in his gut and grew with such ferocity that he swallowed to ward off the nausea threatening to bend him over.

"Severus," he groaned. His innards must have gone liquid, that was why he was feeling this way, liquid and completely useless as he began to fade, grow thin with Snape's hands held in a death grip.

"Chant!" Snape urged and Harry tried. What was he saying? Something about Water and Fire and home and Draco? He mumbled broken phrases and delirium took over until his stomach began to take form again and he hurled onto Snape's feet.

Doubled over in his own unfortunate repercussion of the spell, Snape finally gripped onto Harry's biceps and tugged him to his feet. "We are not done," he said breathlessly. "Get up."

Harry struggled, slipped twice in slime and vomit, and finally gained his feet. "Oh bloody hell," he groaned. "Did that work?"

"I'm unsure. Let's go outside. Observe the cabin's appearance."

Helping each other, the two men leaned together as they escaped the tub and then left the bathroom to finally exit the door to the outside, heedless of their nudity.

The air was shiny. The cabin had a half charred visage that shifted to pristine. "Severus?" Harry whined nervously. Fat honey bees buzzed past him, dancing around the purple lilac from flower to flower. One minute they were solid, the next an illusion.

They had not made it through. They'd gotten stuck somewhere in the middle.

Severus growled and looked around. Harry could finally stand on his own, bits of rock and dirt sticking to the bottoms of his feet as he surveyed the world around them, a shimmery double image. He could see time washed signs of the battle as well as the perfectly undamaged world he and Severus now lived in.

Then, in the distance near the lake, they saw a person: a shadow, or perhaps a mirage.

"Draco," Harry said in wonderment.

A soft word, an echo, reached the two men. "Harry?" Snape's frown deepened.

"Harry! Severus!" The mirage ran towards them. "I can see you! Can you see me? I'm right here!" The transparent form of Draco reached out to them. His hair was a little longer and he seemed careworn. But it was Draco and a sob escaped Harry's lips as he reached out, only to pass right through his extended hand.

"Severus? What's going on?" He chanced a glance up at Snape. Snape was quiet; he only stared at Draco, his eyes wide, his lips pressed firmly in a grimace.

Severus reached out a hand, but pulled back before he too could pass right through the younger man. "Draco." Sorrow. His name was a cradle for all of Snape's sorrow. "It didn't work. We have failed…"

"Where are you? Where did you go? I'm trying to get back to you. Harry? Severus? I'm trying…"

"Draco," Harry whimpered at the apparition.

"Hermione and the others from the Order are trying to help, trying to find out where you went." The figure grew thinner, the voice tinny as it began to fade. "Samhain. Hermione said Samhain! I'm staying in the cabin. I won't leave! I won't leave you!" he screeched, his voice cracking as he fell to his knees.

Harry dropped to the grass before Draco. "We will still search. We will get back to you. Keep trying. Keep trying, Draco. We will be with you again. We will! _We will!_" he continued to cry, to cajole and promise and plead as Draco faded, leaving them alone to the buzzing bees.

* * *

It had taken them a half hour of scrubbing each other and the tub with brutal floor cleanser and a stiff bristled brush to clean the potion away. Harry's hair was still weighed down with it and he couldn't get it all out from under his fingernails and from between his toes. Neither of them said anything as they took the brush to their bodies, scrubbing and rinsing, scrubbing and rinsing, until their skin was raw and pink.

The day was sunny and warm and Harry resented the weather its joy.

That night he rolled over and wrapped his arm around Snape's middle, trapping him under one leg, and held him close. He didn't want to be alone. Snape held him back.

**Sixty days following: **

One fluffy cloud strolled across the pale blue sky. It was mid-day. A soft quack was responded to by another soft quack and the happy sounds of dabbling bills. A sparrow sang from a bush long past its bloom season but now rotund with deep green leaves.

The sun hung high in the sky, blinding Harry as he stared up at it, his eyes closed but his lids offering measly protection from its fury. His arms were stretched out as he floated in the cool water of the lake.

One duck paddled alongside him and then scooted by when Harry twitched a hand. His skin was deep brown. His hopes had dried up.

"Harry," Severus called out to him. "It is time. I'm leaving."

Harry flipped over, treading water, and looked up at Snape standing on the edge of the lake; the blue water lapped his boot toes with the swish of Harry's arms and legs.

A goose honked, then another, as a small flock swept across the sky. The air held the strong scent of dried grass in the heat.

"Now?" Harry finally asked.

"Yes. I need to do more research and this world can't be one of complete isolation. We must have allies out there." Snape's eyes gleamed in the sun's light.

They'd talked about this, about Snape leaving and trying to find the Order or magical books or something to help them return home. Snape discussed leaving Harry here. Harry'd said nothing.

With two strokes he was at the water's edge and he climbed up the rocks until he was facing Severus. "I…" _don't want you to go._

"I won't be gone long." He'd been saying that. Promising.

"Okay," Harry said.

Snape opened his arms and Harry leaned into him.

**Sixty-four days following: **

For the third time that day, Harry paced the edge of the open field that had become his world. It took him approximately an hour and a half per lap. He walked from the front door of the cabin early that morning and headed straight to the forest's edge, just to the Disillusionment's perimeter. He was topless and had only slipped on a pair of old sneakers and cut offs. In his hand he clutched a canteen of water.

He turned left and walked past trees and bushes; tiny animal trails left small broken cracks in the verdant wall. Mounds of time-worn stone were scrambled over and a small creak was crossed. Shiny scales flashed in the water, but Harry kept walking. He was not fishing today.

At the farthest reach of the charm's edge he was about a half mile away from the cabin with the lake between him and it. It was marshy here, the ground spongy, and he'd removed his shoes and squished his way through cattails, yellow-eyed grass and skirret. Frogs leapt from his passage and a marsh hen scolded his trespass.

As he continued the ground firmed and he rubbed his feet clean with the broad leaves of dock and stuffed his feet back into his shoes and continued on. The scents of muck, skunk and fox, wildflowers and sun touched grasses filled the air.

When he reached his starting point, the forest's edge closest to the cabin, he paused and wondered what exactly he wanted to do today. Severus has been gone four days and Harry had begun to go squirrelly. He'd surveyed his valley and began to walk again.

**Sixty-seven days following: **

Yesterday he'd slept all day. Well, it wasn't actually sleeping, he just didn't get up. But he'd done too much of that already and so today he rose out of bed at dawn and puttered about the cabin. He dusted the books. He mopped the floors. He rearranged the food stores alphabetically. With only two of them the food was lasting longer.

He did it all the Muggle way. Magic didn't work for Harry here.

**Seventy-two days following: **

The bathroom mirror was small, only large enough to reflect his face and the top of his chest. He stood before it naked.

He reached up and ran his fingers over his skin. He had a good complexion and he'd grown tan. Bushy eyebrows highlighted his green eyes. He no longer looked at them and longed for his mother.

The scar was faded and hidden beneath a black veil of hair.

His fingers trailed down his face over his neck along his pecs and then hovered over his nipples. Sparse hair encircled each pink nub.

He grasped each one and pinched. Hard.

Pain. He could feel the pain.

**Seventy-seven days following: **

It was night, the stars contrasting like a splatter of milk on black parchment paper, each one distinct and brilliant and so very far away.

Harry doffed his shorts and stepped into the lake naked. With slow steps he went deeper and deeper until the cool water reached his groin and he shivered as it washed over his sensitive skin.

When he was up to his chin he leaned back and lifted his arms and legs; his nose, toes and hands poked through the water's surface.

Sometimes Harry wanted to float _within_ the lake, let his body sink below the surface and have the water fill in the canals of his ears and forget that the world out there still existed; that other worlds were hiding behind some veil that held promises. No more desire. No more demands. Just him and the water and whoever it is that he was supposed to be before this whole banishment uprooted his recognizable life.

**Eighty-four days following: **

Grey clouds built up, covering the once clear blueness that'd roofed Harry for weeks now. The change was welcome.

He stood in the doorway and stared beyond the tallest trees' tops. They danced, brushing against each other creating a wild symphony as the wind grew in power.

He turned back inside and glanced at the chess set, set up for two players and realized, even if he was only playing himself, he was still going to lose.

**Eighty-eight days following: **

The eggs stared at him, scrambled and yellow and completely unappetizing. He dumped his lunch in the trash bin, covering his breakfast and last night's dinner.

It all tasted like dust.

Off and on over the past few days the rain came and went, swelled and seeped away like the respiration of the earth. Inhale. Exhale. Now she was huffing in frustration, gusting up a windstorm. Thunder burst like canon fire and Harry was in the center of the battle.

He ran out into the storm and climbed his rock, standing high in the squall that tugged and pulled at his hair. He lifted his chin to the angry storm clouds, layers of grey and black. Fat raindrops pelted his face, his arms, the tops of his bare feet.

Lightning flashed across the sky and he laughed like an animal in pain.

He watched as the rain beat down hard against the tensile surface of the lake. He thought he knew how the water must feel.

**Ninety**** days following: **

Through the fog and the rain and the mist, Snape emerged.

His cloak was heavy with water and his hair draped his face like thin lengths of twine. Dark shadows encircled his eyes but they looked upon Harry brightly.

He was the most beautiful thing Harry remembered seeing in a very long time.

Harry, mindless of everything, ran to the man and hugged him tight; encircling him with arms made of ironwood from his desire to never let him go.

"You came back to me," Harry said into the soggy collar of Snape's robes.

"Of course, Harry. Of course I did."

**Ninety-one**** days following: **

It was his birthday. He was 19.

He woke up in Snape's arms. Yesterday, after Harry'd gotten him out of his wet clothes and settled into a warm tub, Harry had rubbed his shoulders swallowing down each and every question he had for the man.

Then he'd pulled him out, dried him off and held onto him with a grip to rival Hercules, afraid to lose the one anchor to his sanity that he had.

It was his birthday and Snape had returned to him and he came with news of the outside world and a way to get to Draco.

"So," Harry mumbled into Severus' neck, "You met with Dawlish and McGonagall?" He worked one leg over Snape's hips and snuggled up close.

"Yes. They were very helpful," Snape rasped. He was carding his fingers through Harry's hair. It was slow and steady and it made Harry feel safe.

"And they had a war, too?"

Snape _hmmed_ in affirmation. "They lost many people, like we did."

Harry didn't want to know. "But they won?" Now that, that seemed important.

"Yes, Harry. They won." Snape kissed him on the top of his head, and Harry thought this to be a splendid birthday present.

"And you think you have a spell? To get us back?" He'd been pressuring Snape to answer him, but the wizard had kept avoiding that discussion.

"I found a spell. We can talk about it tomorrow." Harry guessed that was as good as he was going to get.

He dropped the questions and pressed his groin against Snape's hip, rubbing up against him. It felt pleasant and somehow comforting. He missed touching the man.

"Harry," Snape began and Harry stalled his actions due to the hesitation in his voice.

He propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at Severus. "Yeah?" Did Severus not want Harry to touch him?

"I'd like to try something."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Lie back." Snape closed his fingers around Harry's biceps and gently pressed him to the mattress. "On the bed."

Unsure, Harry let himself be manipulated by Severus and soon he was lying down with Severus leaning over him, their previous positions reversed.

"I want to touch you." Snape's voice was low and quiet, and heat stirred in Harry's abdomen.

"But—uhh…" he stammered. "Nothing happens. I can't…" His face grew hot and it wasn't from arousal. Snape would touch him and his fucking cock would continue to mimic a wet noodle and he didn't want to disappoint either of them. His birthday was soon looking like a disaster in the brewing. He didn't think he could take failing right now.

"Trust me," Snape said and his voice was so tender and contained no judgment that Harry simply nodded and remained still as Severus' long fingers began petting his face. With gentle maneuvers--that but a few months ago Harry would never have attributed to Severus--he removed Harry's clothes, item by item. First his shirt, then his trousers and pants. Naked, he squirmed under Snape's hungry gaze.

"Calm down," he said, and Harry stilled.

He kissed and suckled rosebuds over Harry's body, causing him to squirm some more, though this time embarrassment was the farthest thing from his mind. The things Severus was doing, how he sucked on his nipple and bit the skin on his inner thigh, were driving Harry crazy and his bollocks pulsed, so raw with pent up energy that he began begging.

"Please Severus. Anything. Please, touch me. Oh God. Oh _God_."

Harry could feel Severus' tongue slide along his length. The ache soon turned to discomfort; he felt like his body had expanded to fill his borders but had no more slack left.

Then Snape pressed the length of his hand along Harry's limpness. "_Ahh_." Harry threw his head back and moaned. His balls throbbed, but nothing stirred, nothing reacted to that gentle touch.

He wanted to sob. Wanting, needing this so much but having his body deny him was plucking Harry's nerves to the fraying point.

"Relax, Harry," Snape whispered right against the tender spot behind his ear and Harry gasped at the tickle of breath along his sensitive skin and the tiny hairs growing over his neck. "You can't just _will_ an erection."

"I know," he said with panting breaths. "It feels good… to have you touch me… but so fucking hard to have nothing happen."

"Relax. Don't focus on anything, not your lack of erection, not my hand on you, just relax and let your body sense it all." His body was pressed tightly against Harry, it exuded heat and confidence and that musky smell of an aroused man. Harry's heart lurched.

Then Snape did something completely unexpected. Simultaneously he licked down Harry's neck to bite down at the base of his throat and then he pushed his magic into Harry's penis.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, _Severus_," Harry cried out. The dam had broken—completely crumbled stone by stone under the onslaught of Snape's magic and wicked, wicked teeth and Harry could do nothing else but _feel_ the power and the pleasure and the _everything_ that came with it.

His cock jumped, filled and exploded with that one touch.

Perhaps this was the best birthday present ever.

**Ninety-two**** days following: **

It was a tune from his childhood, maybe it was a commercial jingle--he couldn't quite remember--that Harry was humming that morning. He was buttering slices of toast while Snape was showering, feeling better than he had in an age or two.

He'd come last night. He'd got an erection and come at Severus' contact and it'd made him practically pass out.

He wanted to try again, to make sure it wasn't just a fluke. He grinned at the thought as he flipped over a sausage in the frying pan.

Soon, Snape emerged from the washroom fully dressed. It was a marvel that in such humid weather he could still look fresh and comfortable.

"Good morning!" Harry greeted, laying out the plate of sausages and toast next to a jar of strawberry preserves.

Severus chuckled. "And good morning to you." He grabbed his teacup and sipped from it, _hmming_ as he did so. His heavy lidded eyes tracked Harry as he moved around the kitchen, causing a shiver of delight to race across his skin. Finally, he looked into that dark gaze and his cock filled at what he saw.

"Oh _Merlin_," Harry groaned.

Casually, Snape set his cup on the table and with just two strides, he reached out and gripped Harry's wrist and dragged him back to the bedroom.

**Ninety-nine**** days following: **

"No more whining. Get your wand." Harry hated it when Snape got all professorish on him.

Harry stared up into the sky. "It isn't my wand. It's some dead guy's… a Death Eater's!"

Snape's scowl deepened. "A dead man that _you_ killed. You won that wand. It is yours. The sooner you acknowledge that, the sooner it will work for you. Get. Your. Wand. Potter."

Harry flinched and went to retrieve the-man-whose-brains-he-bashed-in's wand. He returned with the sprig of willow, smooth against his finger tips. It'd cast the Cruciatus Curse for him back in his home dimension, but here if he really, really focused he could only get it to glow.

"Now, Harry," Snape said, his voice and features softening. "You must learn to use magic here. It is imperative. We will never see Draco again without you working magic."

Harry's heart sunk. "You didn't tell me that," he said in a very small voice.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to, that you would have been working on your magic like I had asked you to. You _must_ learn to use your wand. Now, pick it up. Come on, Harry, hold it properly."

Harry tightened his weak hold on the wand and aimed it towards Snape. "What would you like me to cast?" he asked snidely.

"Nothing, right now. I want you to send your magic into it, like I'd shown you before. I want you to feel that magic, let it flow from you." Harry certainly remembered Snape's magic going into his wand, the flow of it… he also remembered his magic flowing into other parts of him. A deep flush crept up his cheeks and down his neck.

"Harry…" Snape drawled, taking a step and penetrating Harry's personal space. He looked up at the man and his jaw fell open. "If you can lift this rock," he pointed at a fist sized stone on the ground, "with that wand, I will perform an act of fellatio on you to melt every cell in your body."

"Uhh…"

"Rock, Harry. Lift that rock."

With impressive effort, Harry tore his eyes away from Snape's and looked down at the stone. "That rock?" he asked.

Severus leaned forward and sighed into Harry's year, "Yes, that rock." Then he stood straight and stepped away.

It was true that in the past week Harry had discovered exactly why it was that Draco had wanted to play so often before he'd been lost. Snape was skilled in bed, forceful and gentle all at once, a combination that strummed Harry perfectly in light of his awe-inspiring inexperience. They hadn't performed any penetrative acts, well other than a finger or two, because Harry hadn't been ready, but in his mind he thought they'd done every other sexual action known to man. He knew Snape had a wicked mouth and his promise was certainly a worthy incentive.

It'd taken five deep breaths to fully pacify his nerves, but finally Harry felt ready and he pointed _his_ wand at the stone and cast the Levitation Charm.

At first nothing at all happened. Then Harry sought out his magic and pushed it through his arm, into each finger and finally into his wand. His magic surged through him like a stampeding herd of antelope and the rock wriggled, tilted and then finally began floating. One inch, then two and in his shock, it flew through the sky and sailed off into the distance.

He watched it fly. His first real success at a spell in this dimension and he flew a rock to the other side of the earth.

He turned and grinned at Snape. "I did it!" he said happily.

"Yes, you did. Now… shall we?" Snape purred as he held out his hand, and Harry nodded dumbly as his insides dissolved into goo.

**One hundred and twenty**** days following: **

With proper incentive and constant work, Harry finally began to get the hang of his new wand and the odd way magic worked in this world. It wasn't natural and spontaneous, at least not for Harry, and he had to focus and force every single spell, from cantrip to charm. Eventually, the simpler spells were his to command and Snape had even taught him a charm to see the shadows of the other dimensions so close to their own. It astounded him that in some places this lake and field were highly trafficked by people constantly coming and going and here it was virtually deserted.

"It must be a park." Harry had wondered at it all.

Snape still refused to tell him about everything he had done when he was gone and whom he'd met, but Harry consciously decided not to push it. He didn't want to find out that he had died, or that Snape had been a true traitor or that Hermione and Ron had been captured and tortured. It was easier not knowing and he became appeased with the knowledge that the bad guys had been vanquished and nobody was going to come and try to kill them any more.

"Severus," Harry said one night, snuggled up close though it was humid and still an oven by sundown. "I wonder… when we get home, what will Draco think? About us?" Loud chirping from a host of crickets filled the stagnant, evening air.

Snape was gazing up at the ceiling and only a thin sheet covered them. A beast howled into the night, the sound lonely in the darkness. "Harry… This spell I discovered, it won't send us home."

What? He must have misheard. "Severus?"

"It won't send us home. I couldn't discover a way home. What I found was—"

"What do you mean you couldn't find us a way home?!" Harry yelled. "You said you found a spell!" He sat up and glared down at Severus. He was betrayed.

Severus closed his eyes. "I did find a spell. A spell to cross the dimensional boundaries… but it is only for a short time. Only two days per year," Severus tried to explain. Then he opened his eyes and they brimmed with compassion and Harry hated that look, hated Severus pitying him.

"Don't look at me like that," he spat, getting up from the bed. His eyes told lies.

**One hundred and twenty-one**** days following: **

He'd slept on the couch, and it was not the most comfortable of furniture. He couldn't define exactly what he was feeling, but he didn't want to be near Severus right now. He'd thought they were going home. Once they had mastered their magic, they would cast this spell Severus had discovered and they would go home.

Now, it seemed, he was trapped here on a 10-acre parcel of land in a world of strangers.

Rising at dawn, he went out to his rock and studied the water. It was placid this early, before the heat from the sun stirred it. He could see the sharp flashes of fish as they turned and darted amidst the submerged lake weed.

They were not going home. Ever.

He and Severus were stuck, out of time, out of place. Stranded in a world not their own.

"Harry."

Harry didn't turn. The sun glittered like thousands of fish scales on the lake's surface.

"I'm sorry." The words came from close by.

"'t's not your fault," he sniffed.

"I should have told you," Severus answered, moving right behind Harry.

He turned and looked up, and with a shrug he shook his head. "You were trying to protect me. But Severus… you can't do that anymore. We are stuck here together. You can't keep treating me like an innocent. I've tasted blood; I've seen war; I've lived through hell. You can't guard me anymore. You have to be truthful. You're all I got… I can't deal with it if I can't trust you." He stood and faced Severus, looking up into the taller man's face. It'd become so animated in his seclusion with Harry. He could see the sadness and the regret. And he could also see something else: love.

"You're right, Harry. I won't keep anything else from you any further. If you ask, I will tell you."

Harry nodded and said, "Let's go get some tea." Severus watched as Harry returned to the cabin.

* * *

"So, the spell will merge our dimensions together using specially soaked crystals and a ritual you found in Dawlish's library? We can't return?" He sipped his tea, trying to ease his tension. It had grown cool.

Snape shook his head once.

"Can't we recreate the scenario that trapped us here? Use a Sanctuary Spell and whatever it was Rowle cast?" Harry asked.

Snape snorted. "You seem to lack faith in my magical research skills, Harry." Harry rolled his eyes. "I worked off of those circumstances. Without knowing what Rowle cast, it will take some time to unscramble. As it was, I found this spell to layer the dimensions together on Beltane and Samhain."

"But you haven't given up, not really?" Harry asked eagerly, his tea cup halted at his lips.

"No, but I have little to go on. It will take time, Harry. This isn't a brainteaser; it's a bloody enigma."

Harry gulped his tea and shrugged. "But you've given me hope, and I thank you for that. Now, shall we study this spell you found?"

Snape taught Harry about the spell and the ritual components. He'd brought everything with him from his walkabout out into the world, and in all honestly, it seemed terribly simple.

Five charmed quartz crystals were to be soaked for three weeks in a potion made of crushed moonstone, dragon's blood and desiccated dryad bones. Then they would be laid out in the field, one in each corner of a square with the final in the middle. They would pace a circle around it five times and cast the spell.

"If it works as it should," Snape said, and Harry had no doubt it would if Snape was ready to perform it, "The veils will disappear and we should be able to pass through, or others could enter here, as long as it is through the circle."

"And it only lasts for a day?" Harry asked sadly.

"Yes. October 31st and May 1st."

"Well, we'll just have to make it twenty-four hours to never forget."

**One hundred and thirty-six**** days following: **

_Bramburn's History of Centaur Culture_ by Triol Bramburn was not the most exciting book on the shelf, but he'd read the others at least four times. He sat outside on a wool blanket he'd spread across the grass. A cool, fall breeze rustled the trees as he flipped through the pages in the late afternoon.

He was trying to distract himself. October 31st was fast approaching. They would cast their spell and see Draco for one day, assuming he had remained at the cabin and saw the magical circle. They would tell Draco that they were lovers and gauge his reaction; Severus thought it would be positive. Harry hoped it would be.

But time had passed, and Harry wondered if Draco still wanted to be with them. Maybe Draco'd moved on.

Perhaps he already had another.

He didn't want to dwell on that and without proof it was mindless worry. He loved both Draco and Severus; maybe if Draco had someone new, he could continue to love his castaways as well, if only for one day.

But that wasn't the only thing eating at him as he read a paragraph describing the chieftain battles over and over. _The challenger, who had donned the ritual headdress of the rival clan, raises his staff and cries three times, "I," and he speaks his name, "Challenge the Chief for the Mantel of Rulership."_ Once Samhain had passed what was Harry going to do?

A year ago terrible things had happened to him. Five months ago, another crushing blow. He hoped he'd paid his dues and the universe would finally let up on him. Was the next high magical day going to destroy him again?

_The challenger, who had donned the ritual headdress of the rival clan, raises his staff and cries three times… _And after. What then? He couldn't stay here in this secluded world, no matter the paradise it had seemed. He was safe, but he wasn't living. For a year now, he'd been standing still. His contentment had turned into boredom and decay. _"I," and he speaks his name, "Challenge the Chief for the Mantel of Rulership._ _"_ He'd forgotten what it was like to live.

* * *

The chicken came out juicy on the inside and crisp on the outside. Severus certainly was a good cook. Harry spooned some steamed carrots onto his plate and poured a glass of berry juice. "Looks amazing, Severus," Harry told him, and Severus smiled.

"I've been thinking," he began.

"Oh, never a good thing," Snape said. Harry kicked his shin under the table. "Ow!"

"No, this is important. Listen." Snape set his utensils down across his plate and looked at Harry. Harry was caught between an eye roll and a snort, but then he sobered and said seriously, "I think that after Samhain… I think that we need to move on."

Snape raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

"We can't stay here anymore. If we are stuck here, we have to--well, I have to--get out there. Do something with my life. I've got my magic back and I'm not so broken anymore… thanks to you and Draco. I need a life. I can't continue to hide here," he finished quietly.

Snape pondered Harry's words and then nodded. "You are right. We do need to move on."

"Will you go with me?" Harry asked the real question that was eating on him. He didn't want to go on without Severus.

"Of course, Harry," Snape said softly. "I will always remain by your side."

**One hundred and fifty-one**** days following: **

It was the first fire of the fall that they lit in the fireplace. It blazed cheerily and Harry was reminded of chess games and couch snuggling with his two men. Things had been so perfect back then.

He looked over at Severus, who sat with a book in his lap and a shuttered look on his face.

"Severus, what are you thinking about?" Harry asked.

He turned his head to Harry and his eyes sparkled. "I was just pondering our reunion."

"What, whether to brew more lube?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin. Snape laughed.

Impulsively, Harry grabbed the book from Snape's lap, tossed it to the floor and then straddled the man's lap. "We better practice, so we're not rusty." Like the setting sun, Snape's eyes transformed from bright to dark, smoldering as he lifted his face up to kiss Harry.

Their tongues danced, eager and needy, and Harry's hands roamed all over Severus' body, pulling away clothing as they passed. "Severus," he said as the older man devoured his throat. "Tonight… I want… I want you to be in me. I want to…" His words faded to a groan as Snape sucked hard and he could feel the man's erection brush up against his arse.

"Are you certain," Snape asked, his face hidden from Harry's gaze, but he could hear the desire and the joy in his scarred voice.

"_Yes_, " Harry moaned out. "I've been… hmm, Severus… been thinking about it… _Merlin_… for a while." Severus nibbled and sucked and played him like a violin, pulling out moans and sighs in the glow of the fire's light.

Snape stopped kissing him. "Take off your clothes," he ordered and Harry was thrust back into the memory when he, Draco and Severus were together before the fire, and Harry's blood pulsed with the image. He scrambled from Snape's lap and stood before him, backlit by the fire, and slowly, in a seductive dance, pulled his shirt from his shoulders. It slid off one shoulder and then the next and with a flutter it fell to the floor.

With each article of clothing discarded to the floor, Severus' eyes grew darker and darker; his lips parted and the rise and fall of his chest sped up. Slowly, his hand slipped past his waistband and when Harry dropped his pants, Severus' eyes jerked towards Harry's raging erection.

Severus' hand moved to his trouser button and he popped it and opened his fly, pulling out his own hard length. Harry's eyes bulged. "Do you like what you see?" Snape purred. Harry nodded dumbly. "Well come here and prove it."

Harry fell to his knees and clumsily walked upon them towards Snape. He looked at Severus' erection, hard and ready for Harry, and he wet his lips. With a quick glance up at Snape, he dove down and swallowed him whole.

"Oh, Harry. _Harry_… my talented Harry," Snape mumbled. He was inelegant in his enthusiasm, but Snape apparently judged him adequate by urging and cursing and promising the world.

Finally, his body stiffened and he pulled Harry away with a whimper. "Now, across my lap," he said breathlessly, and Harry complied.

They'd played with lube and fingers before, and Harry'd grown to know the exact tilt of his hips to help Severus hit his prostate every time. Snape stretched him, gently at first and then more enthusiastically as Harry began to beg and plead.

"Get up. Now." Harry scrambled up and Snape shucked off his pants. Harry looked down at him, eager yet unsure.

"How should…?" he asked.

"It would be easier on you if you are on your hands and knees…" Severus tried to explain.

"Fuck that," Harry said, and moved to sit across the man's lap.

It hurt at first, but it also felt delicious. A groan escaped his lips when was he fully seated. They stayed there for a moment, Harry wrapped in Severus' arms as he adjusted to the sensation.

"Ready?" Snape asked and Harry nodded, kissing him fervently and then he rose and lowered, slowly and steadily and soon the pain was a memory as Snape hit that spot inside him and all he could see were stars and all he could feel was Severus.

**One hundred and eighty-two**** days following: **

"Tomorrow's the day," Harry said. Though it had begun to get chilly, he was naked where he rested next to Severus. He'd come to realize how safe Snape made him feel. How at home. When had Snape become the world to Harry? It was a mystery: a silent, undefiable mystery. In the last year his life had completely changed, changed from anything he could have ever imagined and he had no clue on Merlin's magical earth how it'd happened.

"Yes," Severus said.

"We bring Draco over." How would Draco take it? That Harry and Severus had gotten so close, so close without him. It somehow seemed so unbalanced. They'd talked about it, but Harry still harbored concern.

"For a time, yes. Draco will be with us for a time."

Harry rolled over; Snape's dark eyes were studying him. "It's better than nothing," he said in a small voice. Then he swallowed and continued. "How do you think…" he paused and Snape said nothing. "Do you think he will be okay? I mean, us—getting so close."

"I think, Harry," Snape said, "That he would be happy."

**One hundred and eighty-three**** days following: **

Samhain arrived in the bright reds and oranges of fall, and with Snape's charm Harry could feel the flutter of other worlds when he focused his senses. The veil was thin; it was one of two days where travel between the different dimensions was possible. If this didn't work, they would have to wait another six months. What if Draco wasn't there? What if he'd given up?

He had to have faith that Draco _knew_ they were trying. He had to have faith that Draco would forever be theirs.

Both men rose early, eager to perform the ritual and summon Draco through. Harry about buzzed with contained anticipation. If Draco was there and if he came through… then Harry could hold him again, kiss him, stroke him and Draco could stroke him, too. He and Draco and Severus. Together.

Maybe it was too much to ask that it all go perfectly, but he felt it was his due. The universe owed him.

"Ready, Harry?" Severus called from the far side of the ritual circle. They'd paced it out, laid it out with the charmed quartz that had been simmering in the potion for weeks. Snape stood directly north of him, about fifty yards away. A soft mist rained down from the partially cloudy sky making everything damp.

Harry nodded. "Of course!" He waved at Snape in his excitement; his wand gripped firmly, his magic coursing through it.

"Let's begin then," Severus said and began walking clockwise, Harry following suit. They walked opposite of each other along the perimeter of the casting circle chanting: "_Interponi Munduso. Interponi Munduso."_

A red wash filled the plane along the edge of their circle and in the oily film he could see other things. They were not alien things, or shocking things, but they were reflections of places other than his familiar existence. A small dog ran by, a couple was holding hands strolling through the field oblivious to the two wizards, and then there was something fantastic. Something that almost tripped up Harry's chant, but he swallowed his exclamation and continued his circular march.

The red was matched with yellows, blues and greens, and finally, on their fifth rotation, a white splash merged all the colors together and the veil was pierced.

Harry went to stand by Snape as they viewed this window into many other worlds, but it was only one world that truly caught their attention.

Clasping their hands together, the two wizards focused on that world, so close to their own with a cabin in the background and a glittering lake beyond. It was raining there as well and the plane from the spell they cast shimmered in rainbow hues.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Harry asked in awe. Snape squeezed his hand. Through the shifting colors they saw a form, a person walking towards them. There was breath-stopping familiarity with the gait of the man's stride as he walked, the lift of his chin as he looked over at them. Harry's breath stalled. This was it. _This was it_. The spell had worked. His heart pounded in his chest as Draco walked through.

"Yes, Harry. It is," Severus said.

Draco remained silent as he walked up to them. Harry smiled, overwhelmed. Draco looked from one man to the other, his eyes open and completely vulnerable as he roamed over every inch of them and settled on the entwined fingers, the touch of their shoulders. Harry waited. And then Draco lifted his face and smiled. No words could even capture how Harry felt. Here was Draco. Draco, whole and safe and beautiful and theirs. Snape remained silent as well, but Harry was certain he appreciated these careless moments of beauty as much as he did.

Harry opened his right arm and Snape opened his left and Draco walked into their embrace.

The End


End file.
